Reclaiming Honor
by Crystalline Maxwell
Summary: The first ZukoxAang fic out there! Summary: After finally catching the Avatar, Prince Zuko is forced to face the reality behind his methods. Where is the honor in what he does? Warnings: Boys love. ZukoxAang. UPDATED: 30November2007
1. Little by Little

**Title**: Reclaiming Honor.

**Chapter Title:** Little By Little

**Rating: **Pg-13

**Disclaimer**: Shounen ai, borderline noncon, sap, angst, AU.

**Word Count: **4411

I noticed that there were no ZukoxAang fics out there. Thus this was born. I am well aware that, as a Nickelodeon show, Zuko is not gay. Aang is not gay. They will never get together. I only ask that you realize that that is the purpose of fanfiction. This deviates from the storyline of the series and, if all things go according to plan, will be the start of an Arc of ZukoxAang.

If you get this far and decide to flame me, seriously, I laugh in your face. I'm a shouta person. I like my boys' love. Seriously, I will laugh in your face if you flame me. Expect it.

Zuko and Aang do not belong to me. Avatar: The Last Airbender and related titles do not belong to me. This fic and the fanart I will do to accompany it (located on my deviantART gyakuten-no-megami does belong to me. If you're inspired to make fanart, please let me know, because I am a fanart whore.

**Further Disclaimer**: This is not _yaoi_, per se, but it is boys' love. Yaoi is "no peak, no point, no meaning" AKA senseless sex. I write not the yaoi. Read it; certainly. Write it; not so much. This should be safe for you kiddies, even if the beginning doesn't seem like it.

That said, I hope you enjoy the _first_ ZukoxAang out there! Enjoy!

**Part One**: Little by Little

_It was dark as a moonless midnight in Prince Zuko's bedchambers. Even with the full harvest moon outside, no light came into his quarters. But of course, Prince Zuko liked it that way. It added a certain mystery to the things he did, and if nothing else certainly made things a little more interesting. On top of that, it seemed to make his captive squirm all the more when he realized that he could not see what was happening around him._

_Normally, Prince Zuko hated the dark. He hated not being able to see a thing in front of him, and even more he hated the coldness that came with having no fire around. But in this particular situation, sight was hardly necessary. He could feel his way to what he wanted. And warmth, well, that was no problem either. The Avatar could keep him warm._

"_No—stop it…!"_

"_Save your breath, Avatar." He could feel the boy shudder beneath him and smirked, catching his bound hands and lifting them over his head. There was a soft whimper, though whether it was one of pain or fear—or something else entirely—was anyone's guess. Zuko was willing to bet it was the last one. The prince leaned in, lifting the child's face to look him in the eye. It was too dark to see, but from their close proximity he was almost sure that he could feel the Avatar's fearful expression, along with his trembling. The Avatar struggled weakly beneath him, but they both knew that he could not escape._

_Prince Zuko's dark smile widened, and he leaned in so closely that he doubted it would be possible to get any closer at all. Well, they would see, wouldn't they? Quite nearly laughing at the idea, as well as the smaller male's weak attempts to push him away without the use of his hands, he kissed the boy hard, holding him fast as he tried to struggle. Any inclination to fight was slowly draining out of the monk's system with each touch, each caress, and soon enough the one-hundred-and-twelve-year-old boy responded to the insistent kiss, arching up into the exiled prince's touch. Tongues dueled briefly and Prince Zuko won, naturally. They separated to breathe and through the thin silk of his robe the prince could feel the Avatar's heart racing in time to his._

"_You are _mine_, Avatar," the teen whispered, reaching with one hand for the waistband of his captive's robe. The other male gasped, trying hard to twist away as Prince Zuko worked the knot loose, but he only succeeded in helping the process along. As the silken sash fluttered to the floor, leaving his body bare the prince's smile widened a fraction; this victory would be sweet indeed—_

The scream that woke the crew was so bloodcurdling that two sentries in full armor leapt from their posts into the sea. It had come from Prince Zuko's chambers, and after an initial pause for breath four guards dashed inside to see what had happened, fully expecting some kind of terrifying monster to have triggered the lone shriek.

They were surprised to find Prince Zuko, apparently unharmed, sitting bolt upright in his bed. Even more surprising was the expression on his scarred face; he was not calm, nor did he seem angry, for once. Rather, the teenager was flushed, panting heavily, looking to be caught between embarrassment and horror, though the men could not for their lives figure out why. That was not their job. It was unlike their leader to be so far from composed.

"Um, Prince Zuko? Sir?" one of the guards started weakly after a moment, and the boy turned a heated glare his way. That was much more like the Zuko they knew. Glancing away almost immediately, the man tried to start again. "Are you all—"

"Unless you have news of the Avatar there is no reason for you to be here!" Prince Zuko snapped irritably, heat rising again to his cheeks, though this time it was clearly from anger. The four unfortunate men jumped back as the bedside candle burst to life, quite nearly scorching the ceiling. With mumbled, hurried apologies they scuttled out, almost tripping over each other as they made their undignified escape. Once the door closed behind them, Prince Zuko stood gracefully, shoving his silken blankets aside. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest still and moved to the porthole window, glancing out at the unending sea before him without actually seeing it. His mind was completely focused on but one thing: The Avatar.

"Where are you hiding now?"

* * *

They had finally done it.

The Avatar had been captured, separated from his friends, and was completely at Prince Zuko's mercy. With his two companions locked away and under heavy guard, Prince Zuko was quite positive that the little Savior of Men would cooperate without question. He was bound with a special hemp rope treated so that only fire could break it, and the monk had been stripped of anything with the potential to be used as a weapon. Even of his marbles. His things were all set on the lowest shelf in Zuko's wardrobe, carefully locked away to be sure that the Avatar did not get to them. The flying bison had been drugged and left on the small island they had found it on; by the time it awoke Prince Zuko's ship would be far enough away that it would not be a problem.

And if it did follow, there were always the blockades along the boarders.

All that was left was to decide what to do with the Avatar.

He had been brought to the prince's chamber and forced to sit on the floor away from the closed door. Outside were as many guards as could fit safely in the hallway, plus two, all ready to fire on the preteen if he were to try an escape. Any other guards that could be spared were guarding the Waterbender and her brother in the most secure cells of the ship's lower hulls. In theory, no one would be able to get them out on their own. Certainly, escape was not an option.

Uncle Iroh had come in shortly after the boy had been delivered to bring a kettle of good tea to his hotheaded nephew. He had spoken pleasantly with the Avatar as though they were old friends in an almost fathering tone that drove Prince Zuko up the proverbial wall. Although the retired general never gave the boy a straight answer to his questions, he indirectly assured him that if nothing else his friends were unharmed.

"If you want them to stay that way, you won't try any of your heroics," Prince Zuko growled softly as his uncle finally left again. The visit had piqued the prince's anger, though he was careful not to let it show too blatantly. He ought to have been in good cheer; he finally had the Avatar right where he wanted him. His uncle's crazy moments should not have been troublesome enough to upset him. Aang stared at him in surprise as though heroics had been the furthest possible thing from his mind, and then slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh, thin shoulders hunched a bit. Prince Zuko eyed him rather warily from where he sat on his knees with both hands on his thighs in tight fists. Neither male said anything for a long time, and Prince Zuko watched uneasily as Aang fidgeted where he sat, staring down at his bound hands.

The ropes were tight; too tight, judging by the faint purple tinge to Aang's hands, but Zuko would have been a fool to remove them. Let the Avatar suffer. He did not care. The ancient boy would be sure to suffer more before the Fire Lord was done with him. His death certainly would not be a swift one.

Prince Zuko's nearly golden eyes narrowed a bit at the idea. His father had no right whatsoever to touch the Avatar! He had failed in finding the blessed child just as his grandfather and great grandfather had. It was only Zuko who had come anywhere near close to catching the boy. Only the exiled Prince Zuko who had actually brought him down. No one else had any right to his prize.

"_You are _mine _Avatar…"_

The words from his dream echoed in his mind, startling him a bit. The dream had started somewhat like this, with the Avatar bound and trapped in his room, completely at Prince Zuko's mercy. And for a while it had been a fairly normal dream. At least until he had actually touched the prize. He grimaced at that; he was no pervert. Who would violate a one-hundred-and-twelve-year-old boy? True, the Avatar was attractive, and he was quite sure that he was unspoiled, but… That did not mean that Prince Zuko wanted to change that!

"Why is your face red?"

Prince Zuko almost jumped at the question; the flame on the bedside candle certainly did. He looked up sharply to see the Avatar staring right back at him, his head tilted to the side and his eyes genuinely curious. Heat leapt into Zuko's cheeks, and he could feel them redden a bit. "It is not. You're hallucinating," he quipped defensively, glaring darkly at the boy. Aang only blinked, confused by the dark look he was being given coupled with the blatant lie, and then leaned back against the wall, tapping his fingers against the metal floor of the ship.

The faint, rhythmic tapping soon had the Prince's anger rising and he leaned forward, batting the boy's bound hands up and away from the floor. "Stop that," he snapped, surprised at the jolt of electricity that seemed to go through him as their hands touched, even if it was only for a moment. Aang must have felt it too, as the boy flushed a pale cherry and drew his hands away, pressing them to his chest rather shyly.

"I'm bored," the Avatar announced after an uncomfortable beat of silence. He ignored the icy look Prince Zuko was giving him for the most part, looking instead at the rather barren room. A few wall scrolls, a map, a pair of halberds crossed over a low table, a small futon complete with two sets of blankets and a bright red silk comforter, and an elaborately painted red dragon over an altar with four candles and a short bench to either kneel or sit on in front of it. All in all, it was pretty elaborate for a bedroom on a giant warship, but somehow Aang would have liked to think that a prince's room would be more interesting. True, it was more interesting than it had been the first time he'd seen it, but really; improving upon that could not have been difficult.

"Get used to it. It's not my job to keep you entertained," Zuko muttered, watching as the Avatar struggled a little with the bindings cutting into his wrists. His fingers were turning a dark purple, and he whined softly, plainly wishing that he could at least move his hands enough to feel them properly. With a soft, angry growl Prince Zuko reached out and snatched his hands, yanking him forward without a word of explanation. Working the knot free, he gently coaxed the bindings loose so that he could pull them down to rest lower on the boy's wrists. Where they had been tied only a moment before Aang's arms were bruised, and even his blue tattoo matched the mottled purple marks. Zuko winced inwardly at the sight of them, somewhat reluctantly tightening the ropes enough to be sure that the Avatar could not escape. Enemy or not, the kid ought to be treated a little better than that; he had seen slaves with looser bindings! But then, those slaves had not been master benders.

"Um…"

"What?" Prince Zuko asked, glancing back up at the boy. He had not really realized that he was staring at his wrists still. Aang was still leaning precariously forward on his knees, and his cheeks were flushed an attractive roseate. It was a striking look for the boy—dazed, confused, apparently embarrassed by something… he looked good enough to eat, though Prince Zuko did not know where _that _thought had come from. He did not want to dwell on it, either. His thoughts might go back to that dream again, and that would not be good.

Aang looked up at him, grayish eyes wide with a youthful innocence that did not match his long years. "You're still holding my hands," the boy whispered, wiggling his still purple-tinted fingers to illustrate his point. As if confused, Zuko looked down and flushed brightly, releasing the boy's hand and brushing his off on his pants quickly, apparently trying to rid himself of the feeling of Aang's touch. Not that it worked. It was cool and somehow sweet, reminding the exiled prince of snowballs drenched in syrup. The analogy puzzled him, and he frowned, sitting back again with is hands in his lap. Not only had that apparently come out of nowhere, but Zuko was almost certain that drawing parallels between the Avatar and his favorite desert was a decidedly bad thing, if not dangerous.

Apparently satisfied with having his hands back even if there was still not much that he could do with them beyond wiggle, the little monk leaned back against the wall, staring up at the high ceiling. He was still bored, but now he was also puzzled. Prince Zuko's behavior was… odd, to say the least. True, he did not know the Firebender well at all, and he was pretty sure that everyone from the Fire Nation was strange, but as far as strangeness went Prince Zuko took the cake, even above his uncle.

"Teenagers…" The boy mumbled absently, shaking his head slowly.

The prince looked up sharply, eyes narrowing visibly as though Aang had said something incredibly suspicious. "What's that supposed to mean, Avatar?" he growled, and Aang glanced over at him, a perfectly innocent smile on his face. It seemed to say something like, 'What, I have to explain it to you?'

It seemed he did, as Prince Zuko continued to glare at him suspiciously, the way one might look at a known killer proclaiming a sudden complete change of heart. Which was probably the absolute furthest thing in the universe from the Avatar, with the possible exception of Commander Zhao. "You're all weird. Katara and Sokka too. I don't understand what keeps making y'all act so crazy," he said lightly, shrugging it off. He was well aware that his explanation probably did not make much sense, if any, but he certainly did not owe Prince Zuko an in-depth explanation.

"Puberty," Prince Zuko muttered absently, not quite realizing that he had spoken aloud. Uncle Iroh had always used it as his way of explaining away anything odd that his nephew had done since his exile, and it really was a good explanation. Even if it was not quite concrete and even if it could mean literally hundreds of different things, it was the response he always had to settle for. The damnable thing even explained his unsettling dreams about the Avatar, to some extent. Though _why_ his hormones wanted something like _that_ he could certainly not explain.

"What's puberty?" the Avatar asked, tilting his head to the side and staring blankly at the Fire prince. He had never heard of it, or if he had, it had been so long ago that he'd completely forgotten.

Prince Zuko looked back up at him, one eyebrow raised incredulously in an expression that plainly said 'Are you kidding?' Surely the little monk was not _that _dense! Everyone his age should have known what puberty was. How could someone supposedly so wised and learned not know? The very idea was simply… simply…

Perfect.

It explained Aang's naïveté and only added to his breathtaking innocence. Aang was the Avatar—he was over a hundred years old! He was the Master of All Elements, the most powerful man on Earth… And he did not know what puberty was. The idea was completely ludicrous. True, he was a monk, and as Avatar he more than likely had other things to focus on in his studies… But Zuko had known about it long before it became something he actually had to deal with. He'd been told horror stories about it all throughout his childhood.

"Puberty is the changes your body goes through when you're becoming a man," he replied, very much set on leaving as much detail out as he could. Hormones were not something he much wanted to explain, and if he had to touch the topic of wet dreams he would probably hang himself. He watched the Avatar warily as the boy rocked back on his heels, and then as he opened his mouth to say something, Prince Zuko added quickly; "Or a woman, when it's happening to a girl."

"Oh." Aang murmured, blinking in confusion. The prince had jumped his question entirely. Not even Sokka or Katara could guess what he was thinking; or if they could, they never did anything about it. He was not used to being cut off. He sighed after a moment, again staring up at the ceiling. Puberty was yet another thing he had not experienced, something that he would probably miss out on if the guards had been right in saying that the Fire Lord would not be letting him live. His mood dropped then, and he slumped down where he sat, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out reality.

The silence that filled the room was an uncomfortable one, and although Zuko tried not to let it show he was feeling somewhat… concerned for the little Avatar. In his limited experience with the boy he had always been smiling and laughing in the face of danger, or if nothing else had looked more lively than a child in a candy shop. At present, however, the little monk looked as though all wind had been stolen from his sails. He seemed withdrawn, afraid, closed off from the world.

Prince Zuko did not like it.

Avatar or not, the little boy was just that; a little boy. Even if he had lived for over a hundred years, Aang was nothing more than a child. Separated from his friends, trapped, alone—the Avatar had to be scared out of his mind. He looked it, with his shoulders hunched, knees up close to his chest, and his bound hands close to his feet. He kept glancing toward the door every time there was any sort of noise from outside, and looked as though he expected someone to barge in and lop off his head.

Prince Zuko let out a disgusted sigh, standing quickly and crossing the room to his closet. He hated to be a bully. Even if the Avatar was supposed to be the most powerful person on Earth, he was still a child. Terrorizing children was dishonorable.

Grumbling something under his breath along the lines of "it would be much easier if you were an old man, Avatar," the prince carefully stripped out of his light armor and hung each piece back on its hook in his closet. Ignoring the distinct feeling in his stomach that he was being watched, he pulled off his undershirt and folded it against his chest before laying it on one of the shelves in the closet, close to the Avatar's things. Lifting his silken nightshirt, he automatically inspected it before slipping it on. Pulling the red ribbon out of his hair to let it down, he sighed faintly and pulled a second nightshirt out of his closet—this one white, almost identical to the crimson one Zuko wore aside from the color difference, down to the embroidered symbol over the breast pocket. The prince's crest was red, black and gold, a twisting knot of black flame with gold along the edges and a black silhouette of another fire behind it. It was both a constant reminder of his position and his exile. Shutting the doors to the wardrobe, he turned again to the Avatar to find the other male watching him closely. Even his hands had stilled.

"It's late. You should get some sleep; tomorrow's going to be a long day," the prince said, crossing the room to pull him to his feet. Again he was surprised at the spark that went through him at the simple contact, but he carefully did not blush. The Avatar had caught him doing enough of that already. Aang wobbled on his feet, but caught himself with a careful twist of air. Prince Zuko stiffened visibly, and again the bedside candle flickered. But when the Avatar did not use his Bending for anything else he relaxed a bit. The scared boy was being true to their agreement, if blackmail could be called that. He was not trying anything.

Prince Zuko was impressed; the Avatar must have been truly concerned for his companions if he was keeping himself in such careful check. Again, he felt his stomach twist. Holding otherwise involved people captive to make a twelve-year-old behave was incredibly low. Sickeningly so. Scowling at the realization that he was still being a bully, he hurriedly loosened the binding around Aang's wrists. "Change into this," he said, pressing the silken nightshirt he had brought out into the boy's hands.

The Avatar stared at him, surprised, then nodded slowly and quickly wiggled out of his shirt. His cheeks tinged a soft pink when Prince Zuko did not look away, but he carefully said nothing as he pulled the shirt on. Joking as his elders might have been when they had originally said it, the boy found than an old anecdote held true; "play not with fire, lest you get yourself burned." Of course, as Avatar he would have to play with it eventually, but now was not likely a good time to tempt fate. Especially when Katara and Sokka's safety was on the line.

Satisfied that the boy no longer needed his hands free, the Fire Prince again caught them and retied the rope, carefully avoiding the nasty bruises higher up on his wrists. Tugging the bonds tight, he looked down at Aang and nodded toward his futon. "Come on," he said, thankful that he could keep his voice even. By all accounts, it was a small miracle. The idea of sharing a bed with the Avatar after so many nights having strange dreams was more than a bit daunting. What could his subconscious come up with if the boy was actually there with him?

"You want me to sleep with you?" Aang blurt out, staring up at the sixteen-year-old with wide eyes. True, he was naïve and did not fully understand the possible implications of "sleeping together," but he knew that it was not normal. Between married people, maybe, but not… enemies. Or whatever they were. He did not much like the idea of being anyone's foe, but it seemed it was yet another thing wherein he had no choice. Zuko had decided to be his enemy right from the start, even if he was acting awfully peculiar as such.

Another blush ran like wildfire across Zuko's cheeks, and he immediately turned away, pulling the little monk toward the bed with silent determination not to fumble if he could think up a proper response. His mind seemed to stall, and when he reached the bed he took a deep breath and he turned again to the boy.

"You can't escape if I've got you. And I don't trust you on your own," he said, proud that the half-truth had not come out sounding as forced as it was. A part of him wanted to see if he could handle sharing a bed with the object of his desires, with the most powerful man on Earth. Another part wanted to prove that he could do it without letting his hormones get the better of him. And another rebellious, quiet part of him wanted to make his dreams a reality.

He hoped that he could ignore that part.

Aang stared up at him for a moment, looking rather uncomfortable with the idea—which he was—but nodded and carefully crawled into bed. He fumbled a little on his way, apparently having trouble with his hands bound again, but was soon fairly well situated with his back turned to the other male. Prince Zuko watched him briefly, face stony to mask his embarrassment, then pulled the covers aside and joined the boy. He watched as the Avatar drew up his blankets around his shoulders, a feat in itself with his hands tied, then moved closer and wordlessly pulled the boy against him. He could feel his pulse quicken in his cheeks and noted with some satisfaction that Aang's breathing sped up a fraction. At least he would not be alone in having trouble getting to sleep with this arrangement.

"I-is this really—"

"I won't let you sneak off," the prince said quickly, closing his eyes. Perhaps he would be able to meditate rather than sleep right away; that sounded decidedly easier than letting his mind wander until he either did something he would regret or slept. For a long moment Aang did not say a word, nor did he move even to blink. He simply lay in Prince Zuko's arms, stiff as a board. Finally, however, the Avatar seemed to relax a bit, and he brought his bounds hands to rest atop Zuko's. The prince let out a soft sigh that he had not quite realized he was holding and nestled his scarred face comfortable into the large down pillow he shared with the Avatar. Maybe a little sleep would be okay…

Long after Zuko's breathing had evened out in sleep, Aang lay trapped in his arms, staring at the wall blankly, still confused. The exiled prince was supposed to be his enemy. He hurt people. He had even destroyed entire villages to come after him. The prince had drugged Appa and hurt his friends! His cold eyes should have been enough to tell him that, to convince him. All that should have been reason enough to hate him for being a cold, unfeeling monster.

But his embrace was warm.

**Part one: **Owari.

Expect part two sometime soon! Yes, I do expect your little flames for this. Bit me. I could not honestly care less if you hate it. If you really don't like it you shouldn't be reading this far. With some luck I'll have part two up within a week; I'm almost done writing it.

**April 2007**: Some formatting and grammar errors have been fixed. A full revamp will have to wait until the story is finished.


	2. Actions Speak Loudest in Silence

**Title: **Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title: **Actions Speak Loudest in Silence

**Rating: **Pg-13

**Word Count:** 3908

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender, in case any of you didn't guess that already. If you haven't already figured that out, I'm sorry. I guarantee that if it _was _mine there would be some actual mansmutt in it, and Nickelodeon wouldn't let me air it.

**Further Disclaimer**: This chapter contains some very sappy fluff. It also tweaks cannon a bit, but that'll get worse later on. From here it basically branches away from the series entirely, and hopefully that won't deter you readers. If it does, I'm sorry!

**Review Replies:** Thank you all for your reviews! O

_Escachic_- We'll have to get that pizza slice to him, then. X3

_Blui_- Heh, I hope you continue loving this fic! It's going to get a little wonky later on.

_Hanasaki Rikku_- You should write them too:D The more authors the merrier!

_Aoi-Moku_- I hope this is soon enough for you! This chapter gave me some trouble, and the next one is looking like it'll be even more troublesome. But never fear! It'll come out!

_Lala_- I wasn't sure about the rating, but none of my betas said that it really counted as "mature" because they didn't technically do anything… Yet. If it comes to a point where it really does warrant that rating, I'll be sure to change it. ;

_Can't remember5713_- Hope this is a good update for you!

_13CC_- Yaa, favorite stories! What an honor! O I'm sorry it wasn't within a week; I had some issues with it. ;

_MoonAssassin13_- Updated:D

_Dances with Kilts_- I love your name, for the record. If it does get to an official M rating I'll probably have that part hosted on and link it to y'all. I haven't actually written anything that completely needed that rating before, though, so I may not post it. X3;; If I do I'll share it with y'all!

_Noin Yuy_- I continue! o I'm glad you like it. :D

_Waterbender_- Here's part two for you! I hope y' like.

_Sheero_- Yaa, love! -- I think it's one of those parings that are slightly too obvious for people to bother with. That or those moral qualms come in – what with Aang being twelve and all.

Wowie, I don't think I've ever gotten that many reviews on one chapter of a fic. Or at least reviews that I didn't beg for! I'm so glad so many people are enjoying this! If y'all would like me to send you some kind of announcement when I update fics, please give me your e-mails or drop me a line on AIM at MalikIsPharaoh. I'll be sure to let as many of you know about it as I can!

Now then, on with the fic!

**Part Two: Actions Speak Loudest in Silence**

Basic logic would have stated that with the Avatar safely trapped in bed with him, and with the knowledge that he would finally be able to go home after so long, Prince Zuko's dreams would have been pleasant. He should have been dreaming about finally going back to the Fire Nation to expect a hero's welcome. That was the very least he should have been able to expect. Or he should have been having dreams far more wild about the Golden Child laying with him. Touching the boy, making him write beneath him, with his cheeks flushed and no way to escape—

But this was not to be.

Prince Zuko's dreams were troubling at the start, and soon became a full-blown nightmare of the worst kind. The prince had been both blessed and cursed with an excellent memory, and even where time had dulled remembered pain he could recall it almost exactly, especially the worst of it. Those memories sometimes seemed more real than reality. This was one of those times.

_He dodged a fire burst with practiced ease, barely wincing as the flame grazed his shoulders. He was lagging a bit, and he was well aware of it as he kicked out at the other Firebender. The masked opponent dodged easily, sweeping low as the prince's attack washed over him. He laughed a short, low laugh and advanced, punching out volley after volley of short, powerful flame waves. The prince was driven back a bit, and as he drew close to the edge of the arena he could hear Uncle Iroh shouting for him._

"_Remember your basics, Prince Zuko!"_

_Basics could not defeat a master. Prince Zuko was fairly certain of that, or had been at the time. Only an incredibly careless Master would be defeated by the same tricks they taught preteens. He ignored is uncle's sage advice and charged, raining an overly heavy salvo of fire blasts on the other Bender, hardly waiting to see if any hit. This fight would prove to his father that he was a worthy successor to the throne; he could not afford to lose, not with his honor at stake. Not again._

_The entire arena was filled with dark smoke from their exchanges, and Prince Zuko was having trouble seeing. On top of that, he was breathing rather heavily and inhaling the smoke; definitely a bad thing. He bit back a soft cough, narrowing his eyes against the stinging smoke. The master would not have much of a disadvantage with his mask on, and although he distantly wondered how a master could dare to flout tradition in an Agni Kai by fighting in full armor in front of the royal court, Prince Zuko's only consolidation was the knowledge that he would not be the only one unable to see. He stopped dead where he stood, dropping into a defensive crouch-like position with his legs wide apart, bent, and his hands raised and ready. Hardly daring to breathe, he glanced around carefully for any sign of the master, listening for his approach. If he could see the man first, he could—_

_Then out of nowhere came his opponent's hand, quicker than anything Zuko could remember seeing. With it came a burst of nearly white fire at its hottest, and although he struck out instinctively with his right hand, flame jutting from his closed fist, Zuko was too slow. The prince hardly realized that he had been hit as he fell to the ground, losing his wind as he hit the hard ground. Everything was bathed in a red haze; he could barely see out of his left eye, and a part of his mind was screaming bloody murder about _something_…_

_It was a long moment before the searing pain of his wound caught up with him, and only then did he realize that he was screaming aloud._

"Prince Zuko—get up!"

The Avatar's voice? Impossible. The Avatar had not been there to witness his weakest moment. To anyone's knowledge, at the time, the boy could have been dead. So why…?

Cool hands were on his, gently prying them lose from whatever it was that he was holding. Not quite half awake, though vaguely aware that his pain was subsiding, the prince growled softly and clutched tightly to his prize. No one took from him. No one. And whatever was in his warms was nice and cool; he was not about to let that go. The pulling increased, more earnestly this time, and Prince Zuko was vaguely aware that something smelled like it was burning.

"Get up! The sheets are on fire!" The Avatar's voice came again, and Prince Zuko's eyes snapped open immediately. So that was what had been burning! Sitting up quickly, he reached over and let the flames graze his hand before clenching a tight fist. Almost instantly the fire was gone, leaving only a little smoke and thoroughly ruined sheets. Aang fanned it away with his hands, blowing softly on what was left of the smoking sheets.

Once the initial danger of having his bed go up in flames again was gone, Prince Zuko let out a quiet sigh of something close to relief. He would not have caught the fire, given that it was impossible to smell smoke when sleeping, and really would have hated to wake up with his bed ablaze… again. In his sleep he often lost control of his Firebending and was continuously paying for it. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that in order to help blow out the flames, and in order to be prying his arms off of what must have been the boy's waist, the Avatar's hands had to be free. A quick glance confirmed this, and he frowned. "When did you get untied?" he asked in an accusatory tone so that it sounded more like "When did you untie yourself?"

"When you tried to roast me!" Aang replied somewhat defensively, absently rubbing at his wrists. He hated to be accused of things that he did not do, especially when Prince Zuko should have known very well that he hadn't. What did the prince think, that he had somehow burned them off with his nonexistent Firebending skills? That was pretty offensive! Especially coupled with the terribly suspicious look the teenager was fixing on him. He couldn't very well blame him; he would not have trusted Prince Zuko any farther than he could throw him without Airbending if the situation had been reversed. But Aang was no liar, and he really hated to be looked at as one. He had lied about being the Avatar a few times, and about cleaning his room, but… those lies never earned him such glares! "It's not like I can just Firebend them off—" He froze, immediately shutting his mouth and clamping his hands over it to be sure that nothing else would slip out. That had been a decidedly _horrible_ screw up!

"What?" The prince asked, staring at the Avatar with wide eyes. Surely he had heard wrongly. The boy stared up at him for a moment, still covering his mouth with both hands, but made no sound. He looked as though he was about to be run down by a team of Komodo Rhinos. As Zuko opened his mouth to question him further the little monk pointedly rolled over to face the wall, and after staring at him blankly with his mouth open for a moment the prince frowned. "You can't Firebend… but you've mastered everything else, haven't you?" Zuko asked slowly, more baffled than anything else. He had seen the Avatar Waterbend in the South Pole, and again a few weeks later. He'd heard of his Earthbending on the last mining shipyard he had been to. That was most of it--And he had also seen him Firebend at the temple of Avatar Roku! Well, perhaps he had not actually seen that; but who else could have been sending off so much fire? It was not as though the former Avatar could have done it! So how could the boy expect him to believe that he couldn't…

"No," Aang said in a small voice, hugging himself tightly around the middle. He knew that admitting his inability—his weakness—was dangerous, much like swimming with the Unagi by choice had been. Prince Zuko might take advantage of it. No, scratch that; Zuko would surely take advantage of it! Though, a small, nagging little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like some form of gremlin said, what else could he do that he hadn't already? The Fire Prince had already kidnapped him, taken away his bison, trapped his friends… He was leading him to his death. There was really nothing else he could take. He stared ahead, trying to keep himself in check. He could not afford to look the prince in the eye and see the scorn there. True, he had not sounded quite angry, but he doubted that that would still be the case once he thought about his answer. Prince Zuko might have been relatively nice so far, but that could change, even if so far it had not. Even knowing that, he had a feeling that looking at the metal wall was much safer. When Zuko said nothing for a few minutes, though, he added in an even softer whisper; "I've only mastered Airbending. That's all."

The Firebender felt what little wind he had leave him then, and he seemed to whither. He felt like a browbeater at best; all the precautions he had taken, all the careful steps he had used to keep from losing his prize—he'd used them all on a _twelve-year-old_. And what had he accomplished? He had scared a little kid out of his mind and terrorized his friends.

He was worse than a bully.

With another sigh he reached down with his left hand and snaked it under the Avatar's shoulders. The boy froze where he lay, stiff as a board, and clenched his eyes shut in fear. The prince scowled a little at that, brows knitting together. Rather than say anything, though, he continued gently moving his hand along the Avatar's back until he could firmly grasp the boy's shoulder. Slowly, gently, he turned the boy so that he could see his face. He was rewarded with a positively terrified look from the little Airbender that made his heart twist almost painfully in his chest. Telling himself silently not to lose his temper, he sighed again and gave the boy's shoulder a soft squeeze. He needed to be calm for this.

"You've had one hundred years to master them all, but you only know Airbending? Why did you let us all think that you knew everything else? If I'd known—" He caught himself, wisely falling silent before he lied. If he had known he would have kept on with his quest to find the Avatar. He would have been just as ruthless in trying to capture him, and he probably would have gone as far as to bring his head home on a plate so that no one would find out that he had not mastered everything else. The only thing that had changed his course was actually meeting the boy and the gradual realization that he was, in fact, the 'bad guy.'

How was what he had been doing honorable?

How could leading a little boy to his death bring back his lost honor?

"Sokka said you'd kill us," Aang said in a tiny voice, trembling a bit in Zuko's grasp. He was still afraid. Sokka knew more of modern Firebenders than he did. He knew just how ruthless they were rumored to be first-hand. The stories his friend had told him were terrifying enough to keep him awake all night and gave him nightmares when he did manage to fall asleep, and from the way Sokka had been going on they were the tamer tales. The Firebenders only got worse. At the guilty look in Prince Zuko's golden eyes, Aang added in a whisper; "Even if you didn't know, you'd kill us…"

"No," the prince said quickly, hardly realizing what he was saying. The Avatar was right, of course. He would have killed them if he'd been given the chance. Worse than that, he would have been proud of it. He would have boasted to his grandchildren that he had killed the Avatar and won the war for the Fire Nation. And knowing that made him sick. Even so, he wanted to somehow reassure the boy that it was not true. "I would not—"

Aang's eyes were brimming with tears, and it was all Prince Zuko could do not to wipe them away and mindlessly reassure the Avatar that things would be all right, even if they wouldn't be. It was irrational and nonsensical, but Zuko truly wanted to make the boy feel better, somehow. Even if it did not make any sense to him. The boy lay where he was for a long moment, then let out a quiet sob and tried to push the Firebender away, but it did no good. He whimpered softly, trying not to let any more tears escape. He failed.

Prince Zuko gently lifted him into a soft embrace, sitting up properly as he did and pulling the boy with him. Almost immediately the child melted in his hold, crying into his shoulder and clutching him desperately. He was shaking visibly, though Zuko could nearly feel him trying hard to hide it. Murmuring soft, reassuring not-quite words into his ear, the prince tried to calm him down. Aang hiccupped, nearly crawling into his enemy's lap. He hardly cared that this could easily be getting him into deeper trouble, and he did not quite realize that this was a rather unusual position to be in. Clinging to the prince with his guard down and no way to protect himself in case things went wrong did not occur to him as being a bad thing. All in all he was completely at Prince Zuko's mercy.

And he did not care.

With a strangled sob Aang pulled away a few minutes later, drying his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing piteously. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled weakly, willing himself to calm down without much success. He felt sick to his stomach, and his eyes were red and puffy. He probably looked like some kind of sick rabbit. Drawing in a shaky breath, he disentangled himself from Zuko's grasp, scooting away on the bed and curling up at the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. Prince Zuko said nothing.

Sighing heavily after a moment the teen rose and took the cold kettle of tea off of the table, pausing for a moment to see if there was any left. Setting it in one hand and taking up one of the white china cups in the other, he returned and poured the herbal drink into the cup. "Would you like it cold or warm?" he asked somewhat uneasily. Asking people what that liked was not something he was the least bit accustomed to. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation never asked; he took what other people offered him and sometimes even what they withheld. But somehow asking the Avatar seemed all right. He was worthy of the prince humbling his proud spirit, even if it was only for a moment.

Aang looked up at him, a little surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, shivering a little where he sat. Neither was sure of the cause of it, though; if it was cold Prince Zuko could not tell, and Aang could have just as easily been frightened. The young Firebender could not blame him if he was. The Avatar licked his lips, eyeing the cut carefully. "Can I have it warm?" he asked after a minute, somewhat tentatively. He watched, surprised, as the prince poured the cold tea. Almost instantly the cup was steaming, and while Prince Zuko turned to put the kettle back down Aang could not help asking; "How did you do that?"

"Basic Firebending trick. Uncle taught me," Prince Zuko replied automatically, passing the tea to the other boy. Aang murmured a very soft 'thank you' and took a sip, lapsing back into silence. The prince put the teakettle aside and moved to sit closer to the Avatar. Either he did not care of did not notice, because Aang made no move even when Prince Zuko was right beside him.

The boy seemed to have his mind a thousand miles away, and was soon automatically sipping at the empty cup, not the least bit aware that the tea was gone. With a sigh Zuko took the china cup from him and carefully put it out of reach so that it would not get in their way later. Aang still did not seem to notice, and brought one knee up close to his chest, crossed his arms over it, and rested his chin on his hands.

Not the least bit comfortable with the silence, the young prince sighed lightly and touched Aang's shoulder. This Aang noticed; he almost jumped and looked up at him sharply, stiff again. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, forcing the concern out of his voice so that he sounded barely interested. It was a good farce; Aang seemed fooled, at least at first. With grayish eyes turned up to face him, surprised by the question. Then a faint smile came to his lips and he shrugged lightly.

"It's not important," he mumbled, glancing away as his smile faded again. He could feel Prince Zuko giving him a doubtful look and reached up to touch the other male's hand. He had half a mind to brush it off of his shoulder, and almost did, but at the last second changed his mind and gave it a tight squeeze. "Just… trying not to think about tomorrow. About what'll happen to my friends… I'm scared," he said finally, closing his eyes tightly to block the world out. It worked to a point; he could almost displace the rocking of the ship and the smell of fire in the room. But he could not block out the prince's presence. "I've messed up everything, all because I'm the Avatar… for Katara and Sokka, and everyone on Kyoshi—everyone I've met keeps suffering because of me. It's not fair!"

Prince Zuko was startled by the outburst and stared at him, then gently pulled the boy into a light hug. He was right; it was not fair at all. No twelve-year-old, give or take a century, should have Aang's responsibility. Keeping the world balanced and preventing wars were more than any one person should ever have to worry about. Even Avatar Roku had been given a better hand to play; at least there had been no war during his time. He sighed, lightly stroking the boy's shoulder with his thumb. "You're right," he said softly, "It's not fair. But that's the way life is."

Aang turned in his loose grip, twining his arms around the larger male's waist and pressing his face against the teen's chest. He was shaking a little, and Zuko thought for a moment that he might cry again. But he did not feel any wetness seeping through his nightshirt. "I never wanted to be the Avatar," he whispered, "I didn't want to be!"

"Ssh," Prince Zuko murmured, rubbing the boy's back softly, wishing that he could do something more to clam him down. This was not his area of expertise by a long shot, and he had so little experience in dealing with matters like this that he was almost ashamed. In his arms the Avatar relaxed a little, although he was still clutching his nightshirt as though he would die if he let go. It made Zuko's heart ache, knowing that Aang was in pain. He did not want to think about it; thinking about the 'why' behind the pain in his heart would require that he admit that he felt something for the boy, that he thought of the Avatar as more than a tool to be used in restoring his lost honor. It would mean really acknowledging his change of heart. He could not afford that.

But in trying not to, he was doing just that. The longer Avatar Aang was in his arms, the longer they shared a room, the more he was realizing that the monk was more than just the Avatar, the Bridge Between Worlds, and the most powerful man alive. It was a degree of lying that he would not stoop to, to continue telling himself that he felt nothing for the boy. His hold on the young monk tightened, and he pulled him even closer. Aang crawled up into his grasp, into the prince's lap, and instead hugged him around the shoulders. He knew that he would regret this come morning; he would be taken to the Fire Nation capital to await whatever Fire Lord Ozai's judgment would be. Death or imprisonment; either way it was unpleasant. The prince pulled back a little, brushing his thumb lightly over the child's cheek, surprised that it was still dry.

"Avatar, you have to be strong," he murmured, and as Aang opened his mouth, he silenced him with a finger to his lips. "You can't let your enemies know your fear."

Aang shook his head vigorously; he did not want any more enemies. He did not want to be _Zuko's_ enemy. Even though it had only been a few hours, he liked spending time with the prince. "I'm not your enemy," he whispered softly, clutching his shirt tightly, afraid to let go. His eyes were down turned, and try as he might to avoid it, he felt like crying. Again. "I don't want to be anyone's enemy. I want everything to be okay for everyone…" Zuko's hand found its way to his cheek again, and the boy leaned into his warm touch, closing his eyes. "I don't want to fight…" _'You_,' he added silently, shivering a little. He did not want to fight prince Zuko. Not after seeing him like this.

"Avatar, listen—"

"Aang," the boy said rather abruptly, glancing up at him and shifting where he sat, straddling Prince Zuko's lap. Drawing himself up to his full height so that he could look down at the prince, though barely, he added; "I'm not just the Avatar. Please… don't call me that anymore. I'm Aang."

It felt as though reality had slapped him in the face then; the Avatar—_Aang_—was right. He was more than just the Avatar. Zuko had only been too blind to really realize it. "All right," he said softly, "Aang, then."

The smile that lit up the little monk's face was brighter than any Prince Zuko had ever seen before, and he could not help smiling slightly in return. Making Aang so happy was most definitely worth the brief awkward feeling of butterflies in his stomach. After a moment, his smile faded and he instinctively pulled Aang down into a strong hug. The boy squeaked in surprise but made no move to escape, instead nearly melting into the warm embrace. He did not want to question it, not now anyway. If Zuko wanted their truce of sorts to continue—well, Aang was all for that.

Even if it was only for a moment.

**Part two**: Owari.

There you go everyone! I really hope this chapter was to your liking. Sorry for the lack of smutt. :3 The next chapter should be up sometime soon- I haven't finished the draft for it, though, so it might be a while. Please forgive the wait!

**April 2007** - Some changes have been made to the Agni Kai as well as grammar/word corrections.


	3. Cookies and Treason

**Title:** Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title: **Cookies and Treason

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Avatar. I've illegally downloaded all of the episodes aired so far, and a music video, and printed all sorts of fanart, but I haven't got any rights to the series. Or the characters. Or the smutt that should be happening on screen.

**Further Disclaimer: **More sappy fluff, a little angst, and some actual _plot_ development! I bet none of you expected that in my fic. Ha. Also, with the airing of The Storm (1:12) this story takes an even huger branch away from the series. Very sorry for that! Expect more of that in the coming chapters. I'll try to integrate as much canon as I can, but it really doesn't look like it'll work too well. Many apologies!

**Review Replies:**

_Hanasaki Rikku_- Hehe, I'm sure you would do fine! ; I'm actually really proud of this; it's the first fic I've written in a long time based on a series that I actually paid attention to more than the fandom. (Which, yaknow, could be because I refuse to read most of the Avatar fics out there. Too much ZukoxKatara, eew. XD) I'm terribly sorry for the long wait! I had the chapter all written by hand and life decided to happen all over the place. Not that that helps any. XD

_PurpleHuedWhite_- Gweeeenneh. You're a very bad liar. Your writing is much tastier than mine! Hehe. I hope you like this, seriously. :D I'm putting way more effort into it than my usual drabbles. Go watch Avatar! It's very tasty and chewy! (And you will, I assure you, FEEL the Zuko love. You wiiiiill.)

_13CC_- I update, I update! ;; Please don't cry ne!

_Waterbender_- Hope the wait didn't kill you. XD;; I'm so slow! Agh! I hope the chapter compensates the long wait.

_Noin Yuy_- I figure that if people can have dreams about getting scratched by cats and then wake up with scratches all over themselves, Zuko should be able to barbeque his bed when he has a nightmare. X3 Plus it's fun to draw him with his jammies on fire. Kyahaha!

_Loves to be Anon_- Kyah, uberlove! I… don't think you can have my children. They're reserved. But I'm supaa glad that you like the fic:D I was absolutely killing myself trying to find a ZukoxAang out there when we started, and completely freaked out when I found that there weren't any! I mean, true, I started this right after The Southern Air Temple (1:3) aired, but that's no excuse! XD I continue!

_Can't Remember5713_- Unfortunately, the romance is going to have to come and go in favor of the plot for a bit, but it should be back within the next chapter or two. There'll still be fluff, o' course, but not too much progress in the love department. Shy little boys. X3

_EscaChick_- My Twinnie! Lookie I update! Yes. Yes, the sheets are indeed on fire. Oopsie!

_Goth-chic_- Aah scattered typos. I need someone to beta for me! ;u; I don't catch them until I've posted the fic and decided to reread it in class. XD I'm so bad at that!

_Ceriadara_- I update!

_Elektra107_- Ah… A/K fic? Oo I severely lack A/K in my world. Updated as soon as I could though!

_Hopeful Angel_- XD ZukoxAang is my paaaaring. Please to call me the ZukoxAang no Miko! Kukuku/ego trip

_Yana-banana_- Hehe, I keep it up! ; I'm totally diggin' this fic, even if it's being rather troublesome just to spite me. I just hope they don't, like, do something horrible in the series and absolutely kill it for me or something. That would be untasty.

_Rachel_- Yaah, such praise! It's something I never expected to hear in _any _fandom. XD Fortunately for this paring, I've got plans for a few more stories, if I get through this one and the sequel that's nagging me… I'm totally addicted to it. And I can't seem to find fanart of my paring, either! ;u; Wangst! But I'll corrupt the world with my crap art and obscene doujinshi. Yes. That's the plan. :D

Fourteen reviews! You people are spoiling me silly, I'm not even kidding you. It's so good to get so much nice feedback! Any feedback at all, really! Really inspirational to come out with more chapters. X3 Sankyuu for reviews and reading and such!

**Part Three: Cookies and Treason**

They sat together for a long time, though neither knew quite how long it was. Keeping one hand played across the small of the boy's back, the prince brushed his knuckles lightly over Aang's upper spine, electing an occasional contented sigh from the other boy. The Avatar could not remember feeling so comfortable for a long, long time. Not since waking from the iceberg, and he had sorely missed it. Somehow he felt safer with the exiled prince than he did even with Katara and Sokka, though it did make some sense; Prince Zuko was stronger than his other friends by far. He might not have been a Master yet, but of the few Firebenders he still knew Zuko was probably the best. Second, maybe, if his Uncle Iroh had taught him everything he knew. It felt good to lose the responsibility of being the strong one for once, even if it could be a liability. With a happy sigh the boy nuzzled the prince's shoulder, sliding his hands up and wrapping them around Prince Zuko's neck. When he was not pushed away he snuggled into him, more than content to stay right where he was for as long as Zuko would let him. It had been far too many long years since he had been held by anyone (Katara excluded) and he did not want to waste it.

The other boy, unfortunately, was not quite as content with their situation. Through the high window above his altar he could see the sky gradually lightening, turning a soft blue with an almost yellow tint of sorts that did not quite bleed into a green when it met the other color. The stars were all but gone from the sky; by full light they would only be only hours away from the port closest to the capital. And from there it would be a day's ride on Komodo Rhino to their destination.

It would be less that two days before he would have to give up the Avatar to his father and his twisted sense of justice.

Without realizing it he hugged Aang even more tightly. He knew that he would never see the boy alive again when they turned him over. Or if he would it would be at a public execution, and knowing his father it would be a very bloody one. That idea made his skin crawl, and he somehow knew that he would never, under any circumstances, be able to forgive himself if he did let it happen. The Avatar's death was not one he wanted on his shoulders. Surely there was some way to make this right and still regain his honor. But how?

"Prince Zuko?"

The prince nearly squeaked at the sudden voice, glancing down at the boy in his lap quickly. Aang had pulled back a little and was staring up at him thoughtfully, gazing at his captor's face as though trying to read it. To Zuko's surprise there was no disgust in the boy's eyes; just a distant sadness and a hint of something akin to pity. Before he could question it the boy had reached up and touched the rough scar on his cheek with a firmness that surprised Zuko more than he would have thought possible. He froze up completely, barely daring to breathe. What was the Avatar doing?

"How did this happen?" the boy whispered, "Was there an accident?"

The teen stared at him for a long moment, further startled by the question. The tale of his shame was well known by the majority of the civilized world; such a juicy rumor had spread faster than the fire that had caused it would in a meadow soaked in lantern oil. Even Waterbenders knew the version that had leaked out to the whole world. Perhaps not the real story, but they knew most of it.

"I lost Agni Kai--a duel--with a Master when I was fourteen," he said finally, carefully leaving out the who and why of the matter, and at the stricken look that came across the young boy's face he closed his eyes. He did not want to see Aang pitying him. He did not want to see _anyone_ pitying him. That was the very last thing he wanted anymore. Anticipating the next question, he added; "That was two years ago, when the Fire Lord banished me."

Had the prince opened his eyes he would have seen a look close to heartbreak on Aang's fine features. Although he had never been "cursed" with the burden of an actual family outside of the monks he had been raised by, the idea of being thrown out by his own father was gut wrenching. "Zuko…" he whispered, almost fearfully brushing his fingers over the deep purple scar. It even _felt_ dead, rough and unnaturally cold, at least compared to the rest of the prince's skin. Prince Zuko opened his eyes after a moment and looked up at him, awaiting whatever was going to come next. He fully expected it to hurt. But Aang was gazing sadly at the scar, brushing his fingers over it so lightly now that Zuko could barely feel it anymore. If he could not see Aang's hand so close to his face he would have been certain that he was not touching him at all.

"I'm sorry," the little Avatar whispered in a rather strangled voice, and although a quiet voice in his head kept telling him to pull his hand away he found that he could not. His fingers continued to dance across Prince Zuko's face, soon moving up to trace the lighter part of the scar above Zuko's eye. "It looks like it must have hurt so much…" Just as he was about to draw his hand away Zuko reached up and caught it, pressing it briefly to his cheek.

Prince Zuko watched sadly as Aang stiffened at the contact. It was a reaction he had half expected; his scar made people incredibly uncomfortable, and while he normally reveled in it and the power it gave him he did not like that the Avatar was so effected by it. "It doesn't bother me much anymore," he said quietly, well aware that it was a blatant half-truth. The _physical _pain was gone for the most part, though not in his dreams. Aside from the occasional twitch it did not interfere with his life much. Mentally, however, he had made almost no progress at all. He flinched almost every time anyone came close to it and was so uncomfortable about the entire affair that he made a point of hiding it whenever he could. More and more often he found that he could not, though, and it was increasingly difficult to ignore it.

Aang stared at him for a moment, then let out a sad sigh and slipped his hand away from Zuko's cheek. The prince's eyes widened (though less on the left side) and without another word Aang hugged him again with an almost tangible desperation that hurt. Then he pulled away a few moments later and carefully moved off of his lap, instead sitting down on the futon and turning to look toward the window over the altar. "It's morning…" he said softly, shivering a little, both from the chill of leaving Zuko's side and from the thought of what morning meant. They would reach land soon and everything would really and truly be over. There would be no chance of escaping, or saving himself, or his friends, much less the world… He grew silent again, watching as the strip of sky through the window grew gradually lighter. It was the first time he had seen something so beautiful and found it almost detestable.

Prince Zuko followed Aang's gaze and sighed heavily; it was indeed morning. There was only a short while left before they would hit land, and then only another day before Aang would be gone to him forever. Unless…

There was a way to save the Avatar. It could easily cost him the honor he had lost already, and he knew it. He would be gambling something that he did not have and could not afford to lose a second time, but Aang… Sending such a kind person to die in return for his sacred honor could not be right.

His uncle would have known what to do. And although he hated to go to him for help on such a matter he doubted that he could work the problem out alone. If he had not drugged the bison he might have had something to work off of; Aang could escape with its help, providing it could find them and avoid the blockade-runners. As it was he doubted that the flying beast would be able to follow them to the capital. Not on its own. Large brain or not, it was only an animal; the sort that lived according to orders. He sighed faintly, rising to walk to his closet, opening it and pulling out his favorite silken overcoat, followed by his day clothes. He changed without paying much attention to what he was doing; he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice when he almost pulled his shirt on backwards.

His plan would require Uncle Iroh's assistance and cooperation, and it would be very risky. It he let the Avatar's friends go there was a fair chance that they would not make it in time, or that they would run into any number of interferences. A thousand things could go wrong—but it was probably his only chance. "Avatar," he said, pulling out another light coat. Aang looked up at him and almost squeaked when Prince Zuko tossed the red garment to him. "We've got to go talk to my uncle. Put that on; it's probably cold out."

Noting that it sounded like he was back to being "Avatar" with a frown, Aang pulled the thin coat on. It was made of fine silk and would not keep him very warm, but the thought was a sweet one. He also noted with an almost smile that it smelled vaguely of cinnamon, just as Zuko did. He liked that, really; he somehow felt better knowing that there was more to the prince than he put out. It made him seem a lot more like a person than the monster Sokka had been making him out to be. The boy rose after a moment, picking up the teacup he had been drinking from earlier and putting it back on the table where it belonged. He did not want to leave things messy by accident. It seemed too out of place for Zuko's room.

Rather suddenly Prince Zuko was behind him again, catching his hands and looping a slip knotted rope around his thin wrists with practiced ease. Aang nearly jumped at the contact, more surprised that he had not noticed him coming up than he was when the prince grabbed his hands. Quite contrary, that had not surprised him in the least. The rope, however…

"Why are you—"

"Uncle will ask why you aren't tied up," the prince said quickly, looping the treated hemp rope around Aang's wrists two more times, crisscrossing it at the middle, then tying it off tight. Not quite as tightly as it had been the first time, but more than tight enough to keep up the image the prince wanted put out. The Avatar winced a little as Prince Zuko put pressure on his bruises, but was careful not to say anything. The comfortable spell of their truce was already beginning to fade, and he did not want to help it along. After a moment's silence he realized that Zuko was still holding his hands again and looked up to see the prince staring blankly ahead, and aside from occasionally brushing his calloused thumb over the blotchy bruises along his wrists he was not moving. Aang finally sighed and leaned back against the other male's chest lightly, closing his eyes. Rather abruptly Zuko's head snapped downward to look at him, and with a last lingering touch he moved away.

"Come on," the prince said softly, turning away sharply and moving to the door. Aang soon joined him, and Prince Zuko lead him out into the hall without another word. It was empty; either the guards were between shifts or they had abandoned their posts out of boredom. Knowing his sloth-like, antsy crew it could very easily have been the second one. Despite the space in the hall Aang kept near to him, walking close enough that Zuko could 'accidentally' brush against his shoulder without any visible effort at all, even if both boys were very conscious of it.

They turned at least six corners in silence and went up two ladders (which was rather difficult on Aang's end with his hands bound, even with Prince Zuko's added help) in silence, with Zuko occasionally nodding to a suddenly silent and attentive-looking guard or two. Aang frowned at the sight of many of them; they kept looking at him very, very strangely, and one (once Prince Zuko was not looking) even made what had to be a terribly obscene hand gesture at him if the lecherous, drunken smile on his face was any indication. The Avatar winced and walked a bit more quickly, almost reaching for Zuko's sleeve. He caught himself at the last instant though and instead made a point to look ahead with his chin tipped up a little. He would have to take Zuko's advice; show no fear.

Quite suddenly the Fire Prince stopped cold at a door completely identical to every other door Aang could remember seeing, and caught the boy's arm to make sure to get his attention. Aang squeaked softly in surprise, caught mid-step, and had to regain his balance with a swirl of air to keep from stumbling into the prince. This time Zuko's face showed no surprise, and Aang was almost certain that as he drew his hand away the prince had made a point of brushing his fingers down his arm. He smiled faintly; the simple contact eased his worries a bit. If nothing else, Zuko had not completely abandoned their truce.

"Uncle Iroh!" Zuko called, opening the door and stepping over the threshold without bothering to see if his uncle was about. He always was so early in the morning; he might not have been lazy, but sunrise generally meant, "Time to get up" on the ship. Aang hopped over the raised doorway, carefully landing with another faint twist of air. The prince glanced down at him with a very faint frown, and put a hand to his shoulder, pulling him inside as the door shut behind him. "Uncle, where _are_ you?"

"Aah, Prince Zuko!" His voice seemed to be coming from the closet, and upon stepping fully into the room Prince Zuko saw that he was indeed there. The old man stepped away from his dressing area, clad in his usual light armor and gray robe beneath it, and smiled brightly at his nephew and his charge. "Good morning! I trust you two have not eaten yet? Good morning, Avatar!"

"Not yet." Out of the corner of his eye Zuko could see Aang relax and smile warmly, and the prince made a mental note to thank his uncle. Even if his overly familiar attitude could be annoying, it seemed to cheer Aang up. 'Good mornings' were exchanged and they soon went to sit at the low table in the middle of the room. Aside from having a much larger weapons rack and hammocks, Uncle Iroh's room was very similar to Zuko's, even down to the wall scrolls and altar decorations. Aang briefly wondered if all the rooms looked the same, and he somehow hoped that they weren't. He liked to think that people kept their rooms very differently in the "real world", whereas at the temple he had been made to keep his simple room very tidy and almost impersonal. It had looked like every other room of the great monastery until he had been informed that he was the Avatar, and then it had become quickly filled with gifts and Airbending scrolls. Aang sighed faintly, looking down at the ground where he sat. Everything had happened very fast, and it seemed that it would continue to do so. He did not much like it.

"Uncle, I have a favor to ask of you," Prince Zuko said, reaching across the table to take up the teapot with one hand, keeping the other resting on his thigh, conveniently close to Aang. Knowing very well that the tea would already be warm (as his uncle never had cold tea unless it was midsummer, and even then very rarely) he poured a cup first for himself, then Iroh, and then for Aang. His uncle raised an eyebrow in silent questioning; Zuko did not ask for favors. But he was pointedly silent and waited for the teen to continue. Prince Zuko said nothing for a moment, pausing to untie the Avatar and tuck the rope away in his sleeve, then passed a small platter of cookies toward the boy next to him without looking at him. He was too wound up to be hungry, but he doubted that Aang had the same problem.

"I need you to help me get the boy and the girl from the Water Tribe out of here before we hit land; if Commander Zhao is anywhere nearby they'll be captured, and I do not want that. We need them on a rush boat and as far south as possible within the hour."

The Avatar nearly jumped at that, dropping the cookie he had been nibbling on into his lap, and he stared up at Prince Zuko with almost impossibly wide eyes, his mouth slack. It sounded like something out of a very nice dream; he was going to let Sokka and Katara go? The idea seemed too good to be true!

Uncle Iroh stared at him, also plainly surprised, though years of practice kept it from showing too blatantly on his face. The prince had never been the type to be concerned over his prisoners; on more than one occasion he had been known to completely forget about them, which tended to result in some rather nasty cleanup needing to be done later on. "That is unlike you, Prince Zuko," he said slowly, looking over at the still surprised Aang. The only vaguely explanation for the prince's behavior involved the Avatar making some sort of promise that he would be absolutely nothing short of the perfect captive, along with a good deal of begging. This was not likely; Prince Zuko was impervious to sweet talk. The only other explanation involved Zuko's recent strange behavior and the way he kept looking at Aang, and it was one that he did not much want to entertain the thought of. That Prince Zuko was somehow falling—or perhaps already _had_ fallen—for the Avatar.

The teen nodded slowly, eyes down turned. It was indeed unlike him, and he knew it. He also knew that his excuse was not a very viable one. "I'm doing it as a favor to the Avatar," he said, taking a sip from his tea in the hopes that his uncle would take his answer as it was and not press the subject further. The room was silent then for a long moment, broken only occasionally by the creaking of the metal ship as it plowed northward toward the Fire Nation.

Judging by the look of wonder on the Avatar's face, Uncle Iroh was fairly certain that his nephew had neither been asked for the favor, nor had he told the boy of his plan. That much was not surprising; Zuko tended to live by the belief that the only way to keep a secret was to keep it to oneself. And that was right, of course. "Prince Zuko, you know you are asking for something very unusual," the former general said, studying him very carefully. Perhaps he was imaging it, but—no, the teen had definitely stiffened then. He let out a heavy sigh and leaned back, tea forgotten, and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling. "I need more of a reason than just that—"

"I just," Zuko cut in, raising his head to gaze evenly at his uncle. Beside him Aang looked up as well, a plainly hopeful expression on his young face. The prince went on once Iroh was again looking his way. "I feel that, since we already have what we want, there is no reason to keep them prisoner. When we dock I don't want to have to deal with them." That was not quite the truth, but Iroh opted not to comment on it either. He could tell, of course, when his nephew was being truthful and when he was not. Right now he most certainly wasn't.

The Dragon of the West grinned rather unexpectedly, clapping his hands in a brief but energetic applause. Aang jumped as the sound echoed off the metal walls of the small room and winced; it hurt his ears. "Avatar, you are a good influence on my nephew!" Uncle Iroh said with a hearty laugh, and Aang could feel his cheeks reddening a little in embarrassment. That was quite a compliment, given the source.

"Uncle, what does that have to do—"

"I will go and secure a boat for you and get the prisoners," Uncle Iroh said decisively, rising from his seat with a faint grimace. His back popped in protest and he groaned, mentally cursing his old age for finally catching up with him after so many years. He had successfully avoided it for a long time—life on the high seas must have made him easier to track down.

Aang finished off his cookie and stood as well, fidgeting a little. He was not normally shy—as a general rule he was outspoken almost to a fault; Katara certainly lectured him on it often enough. His words rarely hurt anyone, but they could get him in trouble on occasion. He only hoped that this was not one of those times. "Um," he started, looking up (though not _far_ up) at the Firebender. "Can I go with you? I just want to walk around a little…"

Uncle Iroh looked to Prince Zuko, fairly sure that his nephew would not be pleased with the idea. To his surprise the teen nodded, watching Aang's expression warily. The Avatar was plainly relieved and smiled brightly, mouthing a silent 'thank you.' The old man noted with silent displeasure that Prince Zuko blushed a bit as he did, and his uncle sighed. Something would have to be done about that "crush" Prince Zuko was developing on the Avatar before it got him into trouble. "Well then," he said, "Let us go take a quick walk and get your friends."

Prince Zuko stood last, again producing the rope from his sleeve. Aang offered his hands willingly, and after once again binding the boy the prince turned back to his uncle. The old man was gazing at him thoughtfully, and without meaning to Prince Zuko blushed again. "He's being very agreeable, so I doubt there will be any problems," he said defensively, then turned to Aang again and rather consciously released his hands. Knowing very well that it was an empty threat, he added, "Don't do anything to make me change my mind about letting your friends go." Aang smiled, nodding quickly in apparent agreement. He was hardly worried by the threat; even he could see that Prince Zuko was only doing it for show.

The old Firebender started for the door, then paused with one hand to the handle and looked back at the boys. "Prince Zuko, where would you like me to bring the prisoners? Back to the rush boats?"

"No," Zuko said, shaking his head slowly. As nice as it would have been to avoid dealing with the two prisoners, he needed to put his plan into effect immediately, if not sooner. And in order to do that he would have to speak to the girl. Even if he was older, male, and logically ought to have been wiser, her brother was a bit of an idiot. More than that really; he was enough of an idiot that Prince Zuko would not trust him with the life of a rock, let alone the Avatar. "I'll go down and get them. You just take the Avatar with you and see that he stays out of trouble."

Putting a hand to Aang's shoulder to guide him to the door (as he was not making much progress in staring at Prince Zuko like a startled fish), the Dragon of the West nodded. Prince Zuko was more than clearly up to something, but he was fairly certain that it would not get anyone killed, and surely it would not take too long for his uncle to catch on. "Very well, Prince Zuko. Come along, Avatar," he said, pulling the door open and leading the boy out. Zuko watched briefly after they left the room and listened until he could no longer hear their voices in the hall before shutting the door after them.

Left to himself, the Fire Prince sighed and poured himself another cup of tea. He needed all the "calming jasmine tea" he could get if he was going to go through with this plan. The Water Tribe girl—had her name been Kataka? Katara? Something like that—was bright; she had to be if she was so useful to Aang. Smart as the Avatar might have been, he was still effectively a child, and he needed taking care of. Aside from a few Waterbending tricks he had seen, the girl did not seem to be much of a fighter, and he knew that if Aang was learning any Bending it had to be from her. So her brains must have been useful, as far as girls' brains went. With luck she would catch onto the plan.

It was the only real chance Aang had left.

Part Three: Owari 

There we go! I hope that was pleasing enough for y'all. This one was beta-ed by my glorious Jennsa, who also came up with the chapter title. Cookies for her! Because she's SEXY!

The next chapter, also, will be slow in coming up, because we have finals next week. Which isn't tasty. Soon after which I will be deported to the forest to watch children eat paste for a week. With lots and LOTS of luck I'll be able to post soon after that, assuming, of course, that Bob and Slim the 'coons don't eat my notebook while I'm there. They have a bad habit of doing that sort of thing. Maybe I should feed them bras?

I hope y'all like!


	4. Setting the Board

**Title**: Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title**: Setting the Board

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: This story was started during the first season; it takes place around _Book One: Water, Chapter Eight: The Waterbending Scroll_--a little after that, probably. The previous chapter was published before _The Storm_ aired, and therefore from here will deviate from the rest of the series quite a bit. I'd greatly appreciate it if nobody pointed out that kind of thing.

**Author's Notes**: IMPORTANT! The reason for my unexpected hiatus is long and complicated, but can, in part, be explained thus: Real Life got in the way. My father died in September 2005, just after I'd gotten to a place where I might be able to continue this after a very trying summer complete with a dropped police case and the end of a long relationship, and my plans for the rest suddenly became very difficult. On top of this the end of high school, my grandma's death, repeated family emergencies and legal wank between the state and my fiancée, and everything else that can possibly get in the way all--simply put--did. Murphy's been having a field day on me.

Unfortunately, with work and college and whatnot, writing has been put on the backburner indefinitely. I apologize deeply to you all and want to thank you for your kind reviews--they've been incredibly cheering over the past almost-year and a half. I assure you guys, if there's any way I can do it emotionally, I'm _going_ to finish this thing. Your support really helps me a lot!

Many thanks to Theoneunch for beta-ing. You're a doll!

**Review Replies**: Thirty-three reviews, oh goddess! For the bulk of your requests to update; I've finally been able to do so! A few people specifically asked questions or had things I wanted to touch on, so I'm due to respond to them. I wish I could reply to everybody!

_HanaTohruShipperMorgan_: The OOC-ness in previous chapters will, hopefully, be improved upon since I've got a better grasp of the characters a year later… Plus, from here there should be a little more _story_ movement, as opposed to just relationship-related development. Thank you very, very much for the thoughtful reviews, by the way! Hopefully I've improved on subtlety. Neither Zuko nor I am particularly gifted with that. XD

_MysticAnime_: Hehe XD I was thinking that since the Fire Nation is loosely-based on Japan (but with more of a Chinese twist), the all-popular shaved ice with syrup would be a rare treat of sorts… I doubt he can get a hold of it very often, though--as you said, it would melt! XD Sorry for the lack of cinnamon love. Actually, I picked it partly because there's so much incense available… It was the only thing that I could find on my shelf that suited him at all. My fiancée loves the stuff, though, so I'll likely keep it in for her. X3

**Part Four: Setting the Board**

It was official: Sokka was going to drive his sister batty. He had successfully managed to annoy the guard enough to be denied his off-white soup for breakfast and was not going to be allowed out of his seat (or rather, the corner he had holed himself up in to avoid being poked at by the disgruntled guard's spear). Not for anything. As if to compensated he had decided to sing an obnoxious ballad that he seemed to be making up about Firebenders in general, with brief cameos of this specific guard, someone named "Damu Aashu," and Prince Zuko himself.

He had been singing nonstop for at least three hours.

"And ol' Damu Ashu,  
What is that?  
A bird has nested on his hat!  
But bright as Firebenders are  
He thought t'was just his--  
His ha---re!"

"Sokka!" Katara exclaimed, clamping her hands over her ears. It did nothing to block out her brother's warbling, especially when he raised his voice another decibel to continue. Not only was her brother making a point of singing as badly as he could (when he tried to sing seriously his voice was not half bad, especially compared to this) but his inspiration seemed to have died a good hour prior. She knew this mainly because he had sang the "Damu Ashu's Hair" verse at least four times. Not in a row, but it was starting to come close. He seemed to like it only slightly more than the verse about Prince Zuko being an unsuccessful cross dresser in his youth. Of course, that might have been in part thanks to the fact that Katara would always hit him before he could get to the end.

"That Prince Zuko, whatta looker!  
I bet he used to be a hooker--  
He'd paint his lips red  
And fluff his hair  
Then give his customers  
Real bad--"

To Katara's surprise, Sokka was the one to shut himself up this time along, long before her fist got anywhere near the side of his head. He clamped his hands over his mouth, going visibly two shades paler, and his blue eyes widened to nearly twice their normal size. She stared at him, puzzled, then looked cautiously over her shoulder. Her woman's intuition already told her what--or rather, who--would have shut her brother up so forcefully without any work at all.

And it was most certainly no comical figure like Damu Ashu.

Prince Zuko was standing just outside their shared cell with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in his usual drab Fire Nation armor, with a decidedly smug look on his face that Katara could not help being somewhat afraid of. The Fire Prince looked fit to kill--and she would not put him above such a thing. It was just their luck that he would come down at the most obscene moment in Sokka's never-ending ballad.

"For a friend of the Avatar, you're really incredibly stupid," the prince fairly drawled, and if not for the faintly dangerous glint in his golden eyes he would have appeared bored by their mere presence. Katara winced at his tone; the teen might have looked uninterested, but he sounded more preoccupied by planning something along the lines of roasting her idiot brother on a stick and feeding him to a giant platypus.

"Hey!" Sokka shouted indignantly, hopping to his feet, and Katara slapped one hand to her forehead. Talented as he boasted being as a warrior, he certainly did not have the sense to pick his battles where it counted. And this was most definitely a situation where being quiet could have saved their lives. Not necessarily would; but could. More importantly, Aang's life was also at stake, and all selfishness aside, the world could not afford to lose him. Not again.

As amusing as he knew it would have been to argue with the younger male (even if he was not the least bit armed for a battle of wits) the prince knew that he did not have the time for it. "I hope you're a faster learner than you look," he said almost icily, then turned his attention to Katara instead. At least talking to her might bear fruit.

"What does being a quick learner have to do with anything?" the girl asked, brushing her braid over her shoulder so that she could not fidget with it. It felt like, aside from yelling at her brother and trying to drown him out, she had not done anything else since arriving on this hideous boat. Worrying for Aang excluded, of course, because she had been doing that uncontrollably all night. It was no wonder her braid was covered in split ends; worrying and pulling at it could ruin anyone's hair.

"He's going to learn how to drive a rush boat," Prince Zuko said, and it sounded as though he had expected Katara to either know it beforehand or to have already figured it out. She scowled; the Firebender's smirk ought to be wiped off his face with a paddle.

"Drive a rush boat?" Sokka repeated, raising an eyebrow incredulously at the idea.

"That's what I said."

"Why do you want my brother learning that?" Katara asked, watching Prince Zuko warily. He seemed completely nonplused and that made her all the more suspicious; for all they knew, he probably wanted to get them far enough away from the boat to kill them with a fireball off the ballista. A "hot stinker" as Sokka had so bluntly put it.

Keeping them guessing would have been fun, but the Fire Prince had no more time for that than he did arguing Sokka into the ground. He sighed faintly; time constraints always did ruin his fun… but he did need to put his plan in motion, and fast. "I've decided to let you two go," he said dryly, earning a rather surprised look from each of the other teens. Rather than let them get over their shock and pester him, he quickly added; "I don't need the added headache of dealing with you two when we reach land. Now let's go."

The two Water Tribe children stared at him and he smiled a positively arctic smile their way before heading away from the cell, motioning with one hand to stay the guard before he could close the door. Katara stared at the exit for only a moment before grabbing Sokka's hand and hurrying after him. She did not trust the Firebender--not any farther than Sokka could Earthbend him--but any chance of freedom was better than sitting in a cell to rot. At least they might have a chance to do something to save Aang this way.

Even if Katara had no idea of how.

* * *

It did not take long for Aang and Iroh to develop a healthy fondness for one another, and after only a few mildly embarrassing stories had been exchanged they were acting much like lifelong friends. Aang was privately amazed at how much the old Firebender knew and had a feeling that if they had more time for it they could have been closer than fathers and sons were rumored to be.

"You would not believe the things Prince Zuko did at your age, Avatar," Iroh said with a laugh, slapping Aang lightly on the back. The boy smiled; he liked hearing about Prince Zuko's childhood already. There was definitely more to it than Zuko would have liked him--or anyone--to know! "He would go out in the mornings and leave small animals in his sisters' beds. And he would never be caught! Of course, he would tell me all about it before his lessons; he liked to balance work and play!"

"What happened?" Aang asked softly, turning to start down a flight of stairs after the old man. He almost tripped on the hem of the borrowed coat Prince Zuko had given him and jumped up in the air to keep from losing his footing. He barely managed not to fall.

Once Aang had landed and was looking his way again, Uncle Iroh smiled warmly; then looked away as he could not keep the expression up for long. "My nephew grew up and gained many responsibilities. His line of sight changed along with his goals," he said, and Aang sighed softly. Prince Zuko's goal, as far as he knew, was to capture him. Whatever it had been before might have been preferable.

For a moment neither male spoke, and they soon reached the bottom of the stairs. Uncle Iroh placed a hand to the door and slammed his palm hard against it, omitting a short burst of flame. The door swung open and he motioned for Aang to step into the next hall. The Avatar did so, looking around to catch his bearings only to find that it looked lake every other hallway he'd seen on the ship. It only figured.

"Uncle Iroh?" Aang asked rather abruptly, looking up at the old man again before he started down the hall. The former general looked down at him, the perfect picture of grandfatherly curiosity. If he was at all surprised by the familiar address it did not show.

Aang fidgeted a little, twisting his shoulders somewhat nervously. His hands, too, were never still. The question he had in mind was hardly the sort he ought to ask anyone aside from Prince Zuko, but he did not think for a moment that the other boy would have answered him. "Zuko… what does he have to capture me for? Katara said that it had to do with his honor… but how can I help him get back a thing like that?" he asked softly, resisting the urge to look away as he spoke. It was rude to ask a question and then avoid the answer, no matter how disheartening it might be.

Iroh gazed at the boy for a long moment. The Avatar really was full of surprises, bounds of them. He had not quite expected a question like that out of the little boy, even if he _was_ blessed with the wisdom of innumerable previous lives.

There was, of course, a simple answer to his question, but one the old general hardly considered valid. Aang's head was a proverbial bargaining chip, one that the Fire Lord prized, a wild card in a game none of the players seemed to fully understand.

"You cannot," he replied after a time, eyeing the brokenhearted look that passed over Aang's face somewhat sadly. The Avatar was quick to recover, though, and he opened his mouth to question, to protest, something--but Uncle Iroh cut in; "Honor is not something that can be lost or picked up again. My nephew does not understand this. He believes his father, my brother's, notion that it is a thing that can be taken away and bought back. He _wants_ to believe it, because it is far simpler than reality."

Aang's shoulders slumped visibly as Iroh spoke. It was as if a great iron weight had been hung around his neck, pulling, dragging him downward. "Then what's the point?" he asked, "If I can't do anything for him…"

The Avatar's voice trailed off miserably, fading to nothing in the darkened hallway. He did not need to finish; there was nothing more to say.

"Who told you that?"

The baffled look on Uncle Iroh's face looked almost too sincere to be faked, and Aang stared dumbly at him. Suddenly, the old man smiled broadly. "I only said you could not return his honor!" Iroh laughed heartily, slapping Aang on the back in such a jovial way that the boy could not help smiling a little. "You have already done great things for Prince Zuko, Avatar. He has grown much looking for you these past two years; he has seen things in his travels he never would've heard about at home, he thinks for himself… perhaps a little too much, there. That's a _great_ something."

Slowly, Aang's smile widened as Iroh turned away and continued down the hall. It was somehow comforting to hear that he had done some good, at least. While it could not change his current situation, he felt a little lighter. At least it meant one less chain to drag behind him on his way to the gallows.

A low moan went through the ship as it rocked with the sea, moving ever closer to port. It reverberated through the halls, echoing eerily, and Aang barely heard Uncle Iroh's final words of praise.

"Thank you, Avatar, for giving my nephew hope."

* * *

If there had ever been any doubt in his mind, it was long gone by the time Prince Zuko had spent five minutes with the Water Tribe girl; she was utterly maddening. It was a theme with women, he knew, and he wondered if there was some law of nature that made them all completely insane. Katara would not speak to him--something Prince Zuko did not mind in the least--but continually _huffed_ behind his back, scowling and pouting like a child, trying to wear him down. It was silly, juvenile, and would have been infinitely easier to ignore if she would only stop her poor excuse for a Komodo Rhino imitation.

Thus far things seemed to be going smoothly. Sokka was easily disposed of, and after forcing a promise to cooperate from him in return for Katara's safety had been left with Lieutenant Jee for a crash course in the operation of a coal-driven rush boat. There were maps of the Fire Nation's surrounding waters aboard, more than enough coal to make a trip as short as their intended one, and despite their doubts that an uneducated _commoner_ could comprehend what needed to be done Sokka had miraculously proven both Prince Zuko and Lieutenant Jee wrong by taking one look at the boat's schematics and starting the reactor on his own.

Maybe, just maybe, the bumbling idiot's occasional genius would make up for any holes in the plan.

That left dealing with Katara, a job that Prince Zuko--unfortunately--knew had to be his own. The fewer people involved, the less likely word would ever get back to his father of possible treason; helping the Avatar escape from _inside_ the Fire Nation was surely grounds to have his tiny window of hope shut forever. Zuko could not afford to think about that for now, but he knew that he was doing _something_ right. Someone had to reward him for that, somehow.

The only real problem with being discrete about this lay in bringing his plan up without sounding as though he was trying to give her ideas.

Katara soon solved that problem for him.

"Tell me why you're doing this," the girl said abruptly, stopping cold in the deserted hallway. Ahead of her Prince Zuko smirked; he would have to admit, she really was very good at walking into a trap. Much like an ant slipping into the awaiting jaws of an ant lion at the bottom of a sandy pit. It was very convenient. But he kept walking, appearing (from behind) as though he had not heard her.

His attitude was exactly the type that Katara hated most, and being ignored when she knew very well that she had been heard riled her up more than the sight of Aang being fawned on by groups of younger girls ever could. She was more than certain that the prince was only ignoring her because she was female, rather than because of her tribe, and that was not acceptable. Not at all!

If there had been any water in sight she would have liked to use it to slap the other teen silly.

"Tell me!"

Prince Zuko turned to look over his shoulder, carefully replacing his smug smirk with a look of feigned boredom. It was one he had practiced and perfected mainly to avoid looking too interested when his uncle was babbling (he found that the old man did in fact sometimes say useful things, although most of the time it was simply babbling), and to his surprise the look worked quite well here. "I don't need _you_," he said smoothly, nearly laughing at the darkening scowl on the Waterbender's face. It really was not a very attractive look for her. "It's a favor to the Avatar, really." He waved one hand dismissively, again turning his back on the girl and continuing down the hall with practiced slowness in his gate. The mechanical bird was almost wound up properly; he could nearly hear her singing. After a careful pause, he added as if it were an afterthought; "Think of it as a last request. Or a parting gift."

He could have sworn he heard Katara physically snap.

Katara lunged for him, snarling much like a Komodo Rhino. And, similarly, it was more than easy enough for the Fire Prince to avoid her attack, especially after living around the irrational, violent creatures for much of his life. He stepped neatly to the side and just as she was about to come at him with another poorly executed attack, he sent a short blast of fire her way. It was weak, and could not have been strong enough to really singe anything other than fine silk, but it startled her.

"Do you want to try to stop me?" he asked, unable to conceal his triumphant smirk any longer. Not that he needed to; Katara had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. This was too easy. He sorely hoped the rest of the plan would go just as smoothly.

The girl could feel a burning hate for the older boy then. How dare he look so smug about it? It was as though he had planned this, or knew some incredibly crucial secret that she was not privy to and was withholding it. Did he think this was some kind of game? Prince Zuko had to be the most loathsome creature on the planet. It was little wonder he was the Fire Lord's son; he was just like him! "We won't just try," she hissed, staying back only far enough to be out of range if Prince Zuko were to try blasting her. Not that a meter or so was far enough to escape a real volley. "We _will_ stop you. I won't let you hurt Aang!"

Determined not to laugh at the foolish girl or her big words, the prince--the puppet master--folded his arms over his chest and regarded her calmly. Katara was far too easy to get riled up; he had planned a lot more arguing leading up to tricking her into cooperating. And as disappointing as that was, at least they could cut to the chase. "You're really very sure of yourself, aren't you?" The prince asked almost thoughtfully. Before she could reply, however, he continued. "The rush boat will take you back to the island we found you on by mid-afternoon, and by then my men and I--and the _Avatar_--will be well inland. Regardless of time, we'll camp at the Northern crossing of the White Tiger River for the night. That will give you a few hours to catch up on your flying bison."

Had the information come from anyone else Katara might have been happy; there was a chance, however slim, that she could still save Aang. From their experience with Fire Nation naval ships, she knew that Appa could outrun them in a pinch. She also knew that the great bison could find its master on a cloudy, moonless midnight if it tried.

But her informant was the last person she wanted to trust.

"If you hurt him, I'll make you wish you were never born!" The girl snapped reflexively, and Prince Zuko dismissed her with a shrug; it was an idle threat, and they both knew it. Katara's Waterbending prowess were erratic at best, and while Zuko had never seen her bring down a small glacier in a fit of rage, he knew perfectly well that there was no conceivable way for her to do anything _truly_ damaging in the confines of his ship.

She might be a little more formidable at the White Tiger River, with a nearly inexhaustible water source to draw from, as well as the moon's strength, but that would only work to his benefit for now.

Prince Zuko turned away again, continuing down the hall without another word on the subject, ignoring the nearly tangible daggers the Water Tribe girl was glaring at him. He hardly cared if she believed his information; she'd have plenty of time to question his motives _after_ she was off of his ship.

"Hurry up," he called over his shoulder, barely sparing her a glance to see if she'd moved at all. Unsurprisingly, Katara had not budged. "The sooner we find my uncle, the sooner I'll be rid of you and your brother." Then, though he knew there was much yet to do, he could at least rest a little. Working sneakily like this was against his principals and was giving him a headache.

Or perhaps it was the slipper that collided with the back of his skull.

**Part Four: Owari**

While the rest of this story has been plotted out, I've yet to write the next chapter(s)--it may, unfortunately, be another while before you guys get an update. Many apologies. I can't make any promises, but I'm hoping to--at least--update before the winter solstice. That's just before Christmas, so check back, and contact me if I'm tardy!

R&R makes love and is the reason I actually updated. Hint? Of course. :D


	5. Dance of Three

**Title:** Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title: **Dance of Three

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:** 3,306

**Disclaimer:** The direction and intention of this fic were planned and whatnot before the series had aired enough to indicate that Zuko is something of an idiot. Adjustments will be made in later chapters, but for now, he'll seem out of character.

**Author's Notes:** Apologies for the delays; borked Internets and college papers were involved. The next chapter hasn't been drafted at all. But the entire fic has been planned and timed at least twice, the notes for which simply have to be located. I have no beta for this chapter. The writing style, going on two years since I first started (ha, by the time I update next, the two year mark will probably be passed), has changed dramatically. Provided finishing doesn't take me another two years, I warn you all that the style will probably read a lot more like the following, solely because I can't slip back into my old writing style. Fortunately, I doubt anyone will care too much. ;D

**Review Replies: **

_General Reply:_ Thank you guys so much for being understanding about that ridiculously long wait! TT I apologize again about the slowness, and not meeting my own deadlines, and can only hope things don't go completely insane here again. Also, for those of you who read the fic despite not being fans of the paring/slash in general, it makes me super happy and proud to hear that you've liked it! That's a massive compliment; it means a lot!

_HanaTohruShipperMorgan_ - Always an insightful response from you, and I do love it! I'm glad you liked Katara's portrayal; I have trouble with her. I'd blame her for the slowness on this update, but frankly, I was having more trouble with Aang and Zuko than with her. Sokka's song couldn't rhyme past that if I tried, but knowing him, he'd figure out a way to do it. I'm glad you enjoyed that! I hope this chapter, despite being far less funny, pleases you.

_Miss-Cold_ - Annoyed? With well thought-out reviews for each chapter? No way! I'm incredibly grateful that you'd take the time to review each one individually! I really worry about getting characters I'm not too fond of (like Katara--I just don't think I could handle her for long xD) way out of character, but I'm relieved to hear I haven't turned her into an absolute bitch! I have no guarantees if I ever get around to the follow up stories I've got planned for this, but for now, if I can keep the Katara fans happy, I think I've done my job. Thank you so much for the multiple kind reviews!

_Beboots_ - Updates ahoy! I haven't seen many other ZukoxAang fics to compare mine too, but on Livejournal there are some good writers in the AangxZuko community--luckily, we seem to have very different perceptions of how Zuko would handle being in the wrong. That was actually one of the driving ideas behind starting this project at all, so I'm glad people are enjoying it!

_Spencer Brown_ - Ah, yes, from what we've seen of Zuko in canon through Season Two, he's definitely out of character here. But he seemed much smarter back then (that, or I was superimposing Chang Wufei onto his character, and now get to pay in spades)! I'm anxious about Uncle Iroh giving Zuko a talk about this 'un, and I don't think he'll have the opportunity to do it until much later… But when it _does_ happen, you can be sure it'll be a doozy. As for Aang being in on the plan… well, you'll have to see

Gah, so many lovely reviews--I wish I could thank you all individually! Twenty-seven lovely reviews! ;; You're all too good to me. For anyone who knows me on DeviantART (gyakuten-no-megami), there should be some art incoming to accompany this chapter, if it's any consolation.

**Part Five: **Dance of Three

If there was anything Prince Zuko was not renowned for, it was his patience. On more than one occasion, he had been known to accidentally throw a sparring partner overboard when his uncle was being infuriatingly _slow_ about things, particularly involving advances in his training, and his fuse was rumored to be as short as a firecracker's. Those who knew him well--his crew as well as Uncle Iroh--knew this to be untrue; Zuko's was far shorter.

Contempt was intolerable. Despite his exile, the teen still believed wholeheartedly that he was entitled to every ounce of respect (and often more) that his title deserved--from _everyone_, and not just his crew. The Avatar was an exception--but Aang was rarely _dis_respectful, and he was far above simple royalty to begin with.

But coming from a Water Tribe peasant, with little to no noteworthy bending abilities, no status, and--above all other things--a _girl_--It was not something he could simply brush off.

Friend of the Avatar or not.

Katara barely had the chance to lower her arm following her throw, much less blink, before she found herself slammed back against the wall of the corridor with her slipper abruptly back in her hand. More startling by far was the abrupt change in distance between them; Prince Zuko was suddenly _right_ there, just in front of her, glaring absolute death at the Water Tribe girl.

"Do not cross me, girl!" the older boy hissed, golden eyes narrowed to nearly venomous slits. Katara could not help shrinking back, rolling her shoulders to flatten herself against the wall. In full light the Fire Lord's banished son was frightening--or perhaps he was simply more frightening because she neither had anything left to throw at him, nor any water to bend. "If I hadn't promised the Avatar that I wouldn't hurt you or your brother, I swear…"

Fortune favored the Water Tribe girl; before she could hear exactly what Prince Zuko would have liked to do to her, and before she could say something that might further enrage the Fire Prince, the closest thing in the world to divine intervention stepped in:

Uncle Iroh.

"Prince Zuko! I realize it's been a long time, but please, do not get too close to your prisoners," the old man said loudly, and both the Fire Prince and Water Tribe girl nearly jumped out of their skins. Iroh and Aang were standing a few paces off, with the old man offering an amused smile and the young Avatar simply looking bewildered. "She _is_ a beautiful girl, do not get me wrong, but…"

"Ugh!" Prince Zuko exclaimed, moving away from Katara so quickly that he nearly tripped over his shoes in his haste. Fortunately for his pride, he kept his footing. "Uncle, that's _disgusting_--don't you say something like that on my ship!" he hissed, cheeks tinged red with anger. The idea was positively revolting; not only was she a stupid peasant, she was a _Waterbender_, and that only made her even more out of the question.

The former general gave him a plainly nonplused look, barely taking note as Aang slipped past him to rejoin his friend, who immediately began fussing quietly over him like some mother hen. "Such prejudices… beauty is not dependant on nationality," he said casually, earning a withering glare from his young nephew, which he had the good grace to brush off as though it were nothing.

"I don't want to hear about it!" Zuko snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid the tension headache he knew was coming on. Distantly, he realized that his uncle was likely enjoying every second of his annoyance--the old man was as juvenile as any of his sisters on a bad day, and he wondered if it was really worth the trouble to get upset anymore.

Iroh pulled a face, looking about as miserable as a beached whale shark. "But now that we are going home, it's time you started thinking about children, Prince Zuko…"

A developing tic beneath the exiled prince's right eye told Iroh he was going too far in his teasing, and though his expression never wavered, he was slightly disappointed. There was no fun to be had if Prince Zuko couldn't handle simple jokes at his expense; his nephew would never _survive_ marriage if he did not loosen up.

"I am _never_," the young Firebender growled, "going to get married. And _not_ to a _Water Tribe peasant_!"

"_What_?" Katara turned from her inspection, apparently satisfied that Aang was not really any worse for wear. The girl placed both hands on her hips, pulling herself up to her full height--which was not quite as tall as the Fire Prince, but had her towering over Aang and Uncle Iroh. "Ex-_scuse_ me? What does _that_ have to do with anything!?"

"Katara, clam down," Aang said, tugging at her sleeve. "It's not important, okay? Just leave it alone…"

Under normal circumstances, she would never considered standing down. Having lived so long with Sokka's ridiculous sexist ideas, she had developed an incredibly short fuse; but that would not do anyone any favors as long as they were still on Prince Zuko's ship.

But oh, she vowed silently, if she ever caught Zuko alone and on her terms, she would give him the talking-to of his life.

---

Upon their return to the lower hull, Prince Zuko reluctantly allowed Aang to say his goodbyes in private. He was careful to make much show of refusing to untie the boy, and while the captive Airbender seemed relatively unfazed by this it had set his female friend off almost immediately. Luckily for her (and, the Fire Prince realized belatedly, his plan) the idiot brother had stepped in, dragging Katara away for a moment to calm her down before scuttling back toward the rush boat to put some distance between them and their captors. Katara was none too pleased with the situation, and was the only one among the gang to voice it loudly enough for either Zuko or his uncle to hear, but her anger was quickly fading to worry. Prince Zuko could not help but shoot venomous glares in her direction when he thought his uncle was not looking; the quieter her voice became, the more she clung to the Avatar, and for whatever reason--Zuko had no intention of contemplating it, not while his head was pounding--this only aggravated him further.

The murderous looks went almost completely unnoticed on Katara's part, and Sokka, seeing that Aang was hardly unaware of them, insisted that he was not going to contemplate them for even a second. It made his skin crawl.

"Katara, I can't breathe," Aang told her, shifting a shoulder to get her to loosen her possessive grip around his neck. The girl obliged, but just barely, and the little Airbender wished for only a moment that he were tall enough to simply drape his arms around her, even bound, if it would somehow reassure his friend.

A pained look from the girl made him wish that he hadn't complained, regardless of how crucial breathing was to staying alive. "We won't leave you with them," she said boldly, keeping her voice to a low murmur. "Aang, we can get out together as soon as they open the bowdoor. We can all escape."

Sokka shook his head, no. "The rush boat won't go fast enough," he said, wincing in sympathy at his friends' shared crestfallen looks. The Water Tribe boy hated to be the voice of reason; people only listened when he was dead serious. And he could not think of any time more important than now to listen to him. "I've already checked. She can move almost twice as fast as this monster, but it can't gather enough speed to outrun this one at short distances; it needs to warm up. This monster's already moving full speed."

"Then there's no hope?" Katara's grip around Aang tightened again, and the boy could do nothing but lean against her, clenching his fists. Her voice wavered, as if she might cry, and Sokka simply looked away.

"I'm out of ideas."

Aang felt his stomach drop out, as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, and he hung his head. Sokka was right, of course; if they could fly, that would be one thing; speed didn't matter if the enemy had to shoot straight up in the air. But in little rush boat barely big enough to let Appa into, there was simply no way…

"Wait!" he gasped, looking from Sokka to Katara, who had tears in her eyes. Aang smiled reassuringly, with far more confidence than he felt, and dropped his voice low. "If you guys can find Appa and catch up to us before we _get_ to the Fire Nation capital, it'll be okay! We can get away that way, and by the time Zuko can get his crew back to the ship…"

"But Aang," Katara protested, drying her tears with the back of one hand. "How will we get there in time? They're going to be inland by nightfall. And it'll take _hours_ to catch up… We'll never make it…"

The Airbender could only offer a helpless, hopeful smile at that, one that hardly compared to his usual grins and smirks. "I'm counting on you guys."

---

When all was said and done, goodbyes exchanged and threats made (_idle_ threats, Prince Zuko noted, since the Water Tribe peasant was no match for him and _never_ would be), the rush boat was launched and the great iron hatch was secured again, Aang's hopeful exterior melted away almost completely.

Like a ship losing its wind after traveling at full sail, Aang's shoulders sagged and the light in his eyes faded, leaving them dull as coal. He made no argument, no protests whatsoever, when Prince Zuko told him that they would be returning to his quarters, even going so far as to walk a few paces ahead of the Fire Prince on the way back. He was distracted--not at all the lively boy Zuko was accustomed to dealing with. On more than one occasion, the older of the two boys had to catch his charge before he headed down the wrong hallway.

It was unnerving.

"Uncle, tell me once we're nearing the docks," Prince Zuko ordered, ignoring the worried looks the old man kept shooting in Aang's direction. While the Avatar was completely oblivious to it, Prince Zuko was not; and he doubted anyone among his crew with half a brain could miss them.

Of course, they almost all willingly participated in music night, so they couldn't possibly be _that_ bright.

With another painfully obvious glance at the little Avatar, the former general nodded. "I will let you know before we arrive," he agreed, reluctance painfully evident in his voice and face. His nephew could be incredibly cold; while he doubted it had been intentional, giving the Avatar and his friends a "last goodbye" was more emotionally damaging than _not_ seeing them again. Never having been in that situation, however, there was no way for Zuko to realize that kindness could also hurt people. If anything, misguided kindness could kill.

Warnings would go unheard; the likelihood of Prince Zuko heeding someone else's words, even when he might have _known_ they were right, was about as likely as Fire Lord Ozai abruptly ending the war in favor of peace.

Simply put, it wouldn't happen.

As soon as Uncle Iroh was gone, and the door had been firmly shut, Zuko was finally able to let out a sigh of relief; the stressful part--the most stressful part that he had thought through, anyway--was over.

"Aang, come here," he said, and although he received no response, Aang did not resist when the exiled prince reached over to pull him closer. He offered his hands without resistance, allowing Prince Zuko to cut his bonds with a knife.

"Thanks," the little Airbender murmured, dropping his hands down to his sides as Prince Zuko released them. His voice was flat, almost lifeless, as if something had forcibly pushed the monosyllabic response out of him.

Prince Zuko's golden eyes narrowed, disapproval glaringly obvious, and quick as lightning he reached out, snatching the Avatar's chin and lifting his face to meet his eyes. "Stop acting like you've been defeated!" he hissed, earning a startled squeak out of the boy. "If you're a man, fight to the last!"

Regardless of any vows he had made--to see the Avatar fallen from grace, to bring him to a man's level, to prove that he, the failure, the exile, was _above_ the Most Powerful Man Alive--Prince Zuko could not, and would not, allow Aang to fall apart; he did not want to see the boy break. Somehow, perhaps even before he'd been captured, Aang had set himself apart from the great legendary Avatars. He was not some intangible god, or demigod, or anything more than a man--he was a _boy_, nothing less than that, even if he was often a great deal more.

His words sparked something, and for a moment the Fire Prince expected an attack--Aang's eyes had widened, then narrowed a little, and he could see thin shoulders going tense beneath the borrowed robe and tunic. Anticipating something, Zuko released his hold on the younger male's face, dropping back a little, ready.

But nothing of the sort came.

Aang took a deep breath, fixing Prince Zuko with an odd stare; confusion, exhaust, anger, hurt, even fear--it was an incomplete mixture of all of these, as well as any of their counterparts. "I already _have_," he said quietly, but as he went on, his voice grew progressively louder. "I've been fighting this whole time, ever since I woke up in that iceberg, in a war I should've prevented, that I _couldn't_, and _can't_ end, because I'm _just_ a kid! I don't have anything left to fight with!"

The realization that Aang had a point stung, although Prince Zuko loathed to admit it. "You could fight me," Prince Zuko said grimly, a touch of bitterness lighting his golden eyes. The little Avatar said nothing, stubbornly shutting his mouth and looking away. "You already know the layout of this ship; with me out of the way, you could escape. I don't have anything left keeping you here."

The Airbender shook his head after a time, eyes downcast, face only slightly obscured by shadows thanks to the dim lighting in Prince Zuko's room. His friends were free, for the time being, and escape was more than possible; the Fire Prince's bedchambers were located in the main tower of the ship, with easy access to thebridge and helm, and he had already gotten away once before. Prince Zuko knew as well as he did that there would be little difficulty getting away in the end--but that didn't explain what was keeping him from doing it.

Aang closed his eyes, ducking away as Prince Zuko tried to meet his gaze. Whether he wanted to consciously acknowledge it or not (and it was too late to avoid doing it now), the change in the older boy had stirred something in him, something that made him want to stay and see more, against all logic. He didn't _want_ to fight the Fire Prince, not after seeing a softer side to him, and despite Sokka's innumerable warnings of dismemberment and cannibalistic rituals in the Fire Nation (which he couldn't remember any mention of before hearing Sokka's version of Fire Nation tradition), Aang still remembered too much _good_ from the proud country to blindly hate it. Losing his own homeland, his people and culture, painful as it was, forced him to cherish the memories of his long-lost life before.

That included his friends and adventures in the Fire Nation.

"I…" the little Airbender began, but shut his mouth, stubbornly avoiding Prince Zuko's gaze as the older boy tried to turn him around, tried to make eye contact. Knowing it was a coward's decision, Aang decided that he would not look him in the eyes--it was hard enough not to crack already.

Growing quickly annoyed, the Fire Prince grabbed Aang's face in both hands, pulling him forward until their noses nearly touched. It was all he could do to refrain from threatening an answer out of him, but the loss of his trump cards, and the knowledge that he was still dealing with a child, kept the urge in check. "Tell me," he commanded, but his voice was soft, and Aang started in surprise, cloudy gray eyes snapping open to meet Zuko's golden gaze. "At least give me that. Why don't you try to escape?"

The closeness brought a flush to the Avatar's cheeks. He was no stranger to Prince Zuko staring at him with an intensity that could peel iron as if it were as flimsy as an overripe banana, but generally there was a much greater distance between them; this close, Aang felt as if he might get engulfed in flames at any second.

Finally, after a few agonizingly long seconds of near silence in which all that could be heard was the steady groans of the ship as it drew ever nearer to the Fire Nation's shores, Aang spoke. "I don't want to fight you," he admitted finally, and Prince Zuko loosened his grip on the boy's face in sheer surprise. Aang, however, did not move away. "I won't."

Startled as he was, Prince Zuko wanted more than that. "You have to, Aang," he said, settling his hands on the child's shoulders. Not for the first time, he was surprised at just how small the boy was; his frame still had the smallness of one too young to master even elemental basics. A bitter edge cut into his voice as he spoke again. "I'm your _enemy_."

"We don't have to be!" Aang insisted with a hint of desperation that came from knowing it was impossible to change. Perhaps in another time they could be friends--more, even. There was no question as to whether or not they got along, or if they could talk for hours, share secrets, or understand one another--Aang had a feeling that the exiled prince understood him more than Katara or Sokka ever could, and this was only after one long night. "I can't believe you'd actually want to be my enemy. You're _not_ a bad person. If it weren't for this stupid war--"

Prince Zuko bristled a little; whether or not he agreed with the war, even if he could see no justification for sacrificing the lives of his countrymen to control and ultimately unify and protect the people of the lesser countries, he was bound to Fire Lord Sozin's decision by blood. No affinity he felt for the Avatar could change that. "Stupid or not," he cut in, folding his arms over his chest. "There is a war. And regardless of who you think is in the right, _Avatar_," Aang met his glare with a withering glower then, "the Fire Nation will finish what it's started. My father or I will win the war. And _that_ is why we're enemies."

Enraged, with nothing he could say to that, Aang turned on his heel and stomped across the room to sit as far away from the Fire Prince as he could manage. A sharp wind kicked up, only to settle again as he plopped down facing the wall, buffeting Prince Zuko's hair and armor with the strength of a dying whirlwind. From where he sat, cross-legged and sulking, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Aang did not hear Prince Zuko's final words on the topic.

"It doesn't mean I like it, either."

Part Five: Owari 


	6. What Is or Is Not Written in Stone

**Title:** Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title:** What Is or Is Not Written In Stone

**Rating: **PG-13

**Word Count: **4,000

**Disclaimer:** College ate my brain and delayed this update; however, in case anyone forgot, I don't have any affiliation with Nickelodeon and therefore can neither make this canon nor make season three come faster. Hopefully the next chapter will come out before the third season starts! In the meantime, previous chapters are being reworked and fixed up, so I encourage rereading.

**Author's Notes: **Many thanks to the combined efforts of my Flip and Unch for helping me out with this chapter, along with my wife for putting up with my failed attempts at bouncing ideas off of her--Despite the lag in uploading, it _did_ speed the process along, frightening as that might be. I warn everyone that I know relatively little about chiromancy and therefore relied heavily on Wikipedia and Google for the following chapter. Also, if strange characters appear in the body text, check the encoding your browser is displaying; there are some uncommon accents over some words early on.

**Review Replies: **

_Miss-Cold_ - Aged the characters, did I? Oh dear, I was going for the opposite effect on some parts... but I'm glad it's working somewhat! Sokka is fun to write, though incredibly difficult--look out for him in later chapters trying to work his sanity into the crazy that is the Fire Nation:D

_Music-is-luv_ - Ahahaa, you were lucky enough to miss the REALLY big hiatus. :D;; Though I can't say I've done much better with this one, as far as timing goes. I hope it was worth the wait!

_Xezinty_ - Zuko won't get _quite_ as dense as he is in canon, mainly because I've no intention of dropping him on his head, I promise. But then, love _does_ make people stupid, so I don't know how he'll behave later on... x3

_Blooapall_ - What happens then -- well, that's the play, and he wouldn't want us to give it away. ;D It will definitely be revealed soon, though!

**Part Six: **What Is or Is Not Written In Stone

Near silence was a thing that, after two years at sea, was hardly uncommon in Prince Zuko's bedchambers; he usually preferred it, especially in comparison to his uncle's babbling or the horrible warbling the crew made during Music Night. Silence allowed him to reflect in relative peace, to think of everything he had lost and of what he might gain on returning home.

Of course, with his plan in motion, there really was no going home; not now, anyway. He wondered distantly if he would have another chance. He doubted it.

Doing what was right--for he knew, rationally, as well as in his heart, that letting the Avatar escape was surely right--was costing him more than he wanted to realize. There was, of course, his throne, his status, his people, his _home_--these things were all about to be thrown aside to save the boy. The Avatar's life was supposed to be sacred to all, even in the Fire Nation, and no _normal_ person's wants or needs should, logically, have been comparable.

What would his father think, he wondered, if he brought home a twelve-year-old who had barely mastered _one_ element? In many ways, Aang was no different from any boy his age. Even if Fire Lord Ozai did accept him back with open arms (as open as they had ever been, anyway; in his lifetime, Prince Zuko could not recall his father ever embracing him), his youngest sister, Princess Azula, surely would not. She would mock him, he was certain. After all, how difficult could it be to find a yellow-and-orange-clad boy with a bright blue arrow on his head?

His older sister, Qieluo, might still welcome him home; she had been there almost daily while he was recovering after the Agni Kai, according to Uncle Iroh. Although his memory was excellent, the weeks he had spent recovering just before his exile were all but blurred together in a red and black mass of pain and opium; what little he had been certain was real had turned out to be nothing more than hallucinations. His mother certainly hadn't been at his side, watching him, retelling legends of the gods and great spirits, of the little boy trickster Nézhā or the great vermilion bird, Zhū Què, who rose from fire when she died.

Vividly though he remembered it, he could not often make out his mother's face. Or anyone else's back home, he realized.

The exiled prince wondered if anyone remembered _his_.

While there had once been time to think, to lament, this was not the time; contemplating his situation in the near-darkness of his chambers at night was one thing, but not now, only hours from home, hours from having to turn back and chase after the Avatar all over again. Especially not with the boy responsible taking up his bed only a few paces away.

Contemplating his abysmal situation, he realized, was no different than the Avatar pouting in the corner. It was one thing for the Avatar, who was still a child, to be sitting at the edge of the Fire Prince's futon, arms crossed and face pressed against his knees, with his shoulders hunched up near his ears. For Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation, to be doing effectively the same thing was just preposterous.

"This is ridiculous," he snarled, rising to his feet to cross the room in three strides. Whether he meant the situation, his urge to make up with the Avatar, the almost undeniable urge to make _out_ with the Avatar, or the boy's existence in general was unclear; simply that this, the lot, was insane.

Crouching in front of him, Prince Zuko leveled his best glare at the boy's baldpate, at the arrow that marked him as much as a member of his long-lost nation as Zuko's scar marked him an outcast. "Stop sulking," he commanded, not wholly comfortable with the knot in his stomach as he spoke. He would have preferred to use some other method to get his attention, to start repairing the damage done by their argument, but none seemed appropriate. Despite still feeling justified in his words, he could not afford to have Aang be uncooperative later on. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for you to grow up. I'll tie you down and leave if you keep acting like a child."

Unsurprisingly, his coarse words did nothing to coax Aang out of his protective half ball. He barely flinched, making no move to look up even when the older boy grasped his arm to be sure he held his attention. Then Aang drew in a deep breath and spoke, offering a question of his own rather than the response the exiled prince wanted:

"Why do you always say things you don't mean?"

A brief look of surprise crossed the Firebender's features, for that question was certainly one he had never expected of the boy. "If you think, for a second, that I wouldn't tie you up again--" Prince Zuko protested automatically, good eye narrowing visibly.

"That's not what I mean," Aang said, cutting him off and turning a little to face him. He opened his eyes then, and to Prince Zuko's surprise the whites were somewhat reddened, as if Aang had been trying not to cry. Although he still believed himself to be in the right, it felt like a swift kick in the gut. The little Avatar waited another moment, staring up at Zuko with a patience he did not truly appear to possess, perhaps born from the ludicrousness of the situation as a whole. "You were more real last night. Not… I don't know, not like this. Almost everything you say sounds like somebody's putting words in your mouth. Why don't you just say what you really believe instead?"

A slight flush came into the older boy's face, and he scowled. People were not supposed to read him so easily, especially an enemy! But then, Aang was a perceptive person, despite his young age. The Air Nomads, he vaguely recalled, had been very spiritually connected. It was perfectly logical, then, that Aang would be wise beyond his years. Not to mention, he was the Avatar--that surely had something to do with it, too.

He almost refused to answer, hoping that his pride might take less of a blow that way. But in maintaining his silence, he only proved Aang's suspicions right; he did not, could not, say what he truly believed, because it was inherently wrong. The Fire Nation was right in beginning, continuing and ending the war; his ancestors had not made mistakes. If they had, none of them had been _banished_ for them.

"My ideas don't matter," the Fire Prince said finally, voice distant, as if he was trying to resign himself to that fact, even after two years--no; a lifetime--of living to perpetuate the legend of Fire Nation royalty in its superiority and perfection. "We all have our parts to play, and I'm playing mine. That's all."

Aang watched him, listened, disbelief written plainly on his face. For half a moment, Prince Zuko expected him to hold his tongue, to accept his answer; but if anything, the Avatar was an unpredictable person. He was, after all, a young boy. "You don't _want_ that," he said, straightening a little where he sat as his back ached in protest at having to move just as he was getting accustomed to his awkward position. Aang's brows furrowed, and the boy looked him dead in the eye, seeing more than Prince Zuko could bear to let him. "You're not happy like this. It's not a play--you can change your part anytime!"

How often had his mother said something like that? The older boy scowled, no more soothed by the words than he had as a child, born to play second fiddle to his younger sister. "If I were _you_, maybe," he responded, looking away. An unyielding bitterness was evident in his voice; of course the Avatar could change anything he wanted, anytime. He could master his destiny as easily as he could any of the four elements; the Avatar was as much change personified as he was hope for the world.

The fact that Aang _hadn't_ mastered them all was irrelevant.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Avatar asked, sounding somewhat exasperated. He had hoped (perhaps in vain) that the exiled prince was through with thinking of him as just the Avatar; no self-respecting fully realized Avatar would have burst into tears and crawled into another man's lap the night before, after all.

In retrospect, Aang wondered why he had done that; it was unlike him, hugely so, and he could not imagine doing something like that even with his friends. In times of crisis it was his place to pull people together, to save the day at the last possible moment, not break down--he still might do exactly that, if his Avatar spirit felt threatened enough. He wondered if it would react at all. So far there had been no intervention from his past lives whatsoever.

The flat look the golden-eyed prince gave him almost made his verbal response unnecessary. "_You_ have the ability to change your destiny," Prince Zuko snapped, gesturing with his hands by spreading them wide, trying to separate the two topics. "A blacksmith can't make a vase. A pot-maker can't forge a sword. Normal people can't grab the future and mold it with their hands--"

In his rambling, the older boy did not notice as Aang neatly closed much of the distance between them, leaning forward and catching his hands almost too quickly for him to react. Prince Zuko jumped, though, and only barely kept back the instinctual flames that tried to flare to life to repel the Avatar. "What are you _doing_?" he squawked, staring wide-eyed as the Avatar brought his palm up to inspect it more closely, breath tickling the older boy's hand.

"Reading your palm," Aang said simply, peering out from behind the Firebender's hand to give him an even look. He released the teen's left hand, favoring the right, and deftly turned it so Prince Zuko could see. Ignoring the flabbergasted look on his face, the boy went on, tracing down the center of his hand with a feather-light touch that made him squirm a little. "I'm going to see if _any_ of what you just said is already written there."

Never having been much interested in the cryptic arts, the exiled prince could not find an argument against the Avatar's assertion, and he fell silent. Truthfully, he was a little curious to hear what the boy found, to see if there was anything bright in his future at all after living for years in the dark.

Aang 'hmm'-ed softly as he studied the varied ridges and wrinkles on the older boy's hand, wholly unsure of what to make of them. Shortly before running away from the Air Temple, on one of his many trips to visit friends in the other nations, he had come across a fortuneteller in the Earth Kingdom. The woman had told him great things, detailing a long life and a litany of great achievements in the little Airbender's future--but he had paid relatively little attention to where on his hand she had been coming up with these things. A rare butterfly fish in a tank behind her had distracted him.

But he did remember _some_ of the predictions she had given him, and on inspection Zuko's hand did not really look all that different. Surprisingly, Aang found that the Fire Prince actually had _smoother_ lines and softer skin than he did, with the exception of a few small scars that looked like they might have come from a knife, and the boy had to refrain from giggling. Earning a withering glare from the other male, he sobered, clearing his throat loudly. "Okay, let's do this!" Aang announced; Prince Zuko only rolled his eyes.

Hunkering down, Aang selected a long crease close to the older boy's thumb; that one he remembered well enough. "This says you'll live a long life; you'll be mostly healthy, and you'll travel all over the world," he said, recalling the fortuneteller's awe at how long his own was, as well as how complex. As far as he could tell, Zuko's wasn't much different. Fingers tracing upwards, between the prince's thumb and index finger, he went on; "There's a lot of space here, so you're strong and courageous, but probably too aggressive sometimes. This line's the wood line… it's for your head," the line he indicated was deep, but broken up in at least five places; Prince Zuko wondered if the Avatar was intentionally mocking him.

But he remained silent while the boy continued, listening intently as the Airbender alternated between pointing out locations and explaining their meaning. The fate line was faint and winding, impossible to interpret. His wood and water lines almost intersected, and when Aang told the Fire Prince that it meant he would lose himself to his emotions he nearly snatched away his hand. There was simply no way that was written there; the Avatar had to either be lying or making this all up.

Because the idea that it was all written on his hand where anyone could read it was simply too frightening for words.

"This one is about relationships with people," Aang said, indicating a broken crease above the wood line he had pointed out earlier. "It shows that many people will care deeply about you."

"Wait," Prince Zuko cut in, golden eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I thought that was part of the 'head' line. You've already pointed to it twice."

The Avatar faltered then, leaning down to squint at the line in question. "Really?" he asked, and realizing his mistake moved his finger further up. "I meant this one. But the meaning is the same," he said, unsure of what other meaning the line could possibly have--it looked just like the one on his hand from upside down; it was probably identical.

The exiled prince, however, was not so sure about this. "You don't know anything about reading palms. You made all that up, didn't you, Avatar?" he asked sourly, more embarrassed that he had believed it than annoyed. He pulled his hand away then, scowling at the crisscrossing lines across his palm. They were just wrinkles, scars, creases--there was no secret meaning behind them. It was silly to believe it even for a moment.

"No!" Aang's face flushed a cherry pink in embarrassment at being caught, and he leaned forward again to snatch the prince's arm. Zuko would not give, however, and Aang settled for leaning over him, one hand around his wrist and the other closed around his fingers. "That's what they mean. I've had my palm read before. I remember it."

Prince Zuko was not terribly surprised that he had only been parroting things back, and he rolled his eyes. "Lines mean different things for different people," he quipped, earning a scowl that looked more like a pout from the twelve-year-old Savior of Men. "Our hands aren't the same."

"Yes they are!" Abruptly, Aang thrust his hand palm up into the Firebender's face, and the teen flinched, expecting a gust of wind purely on instinct. Prince Zuko blinked a few times; twice and then thrice, peering around the Avatar's hand as if he did not know what to do. "Just look--they match; the union and heart lines are exactly the same. And so are the fate lines!"

With his free hand, the exiled prince grabbed Aang's palm and lowered it, willing to humor the boy only because of his earnestness. He did not believe any of it, really, and he laid their hands palm up on his knee. The little Airbender's hands were considerably smaller, calloused from using a staff for much of his life, with only a few scars--but to the Fire Prnce's surprise, while the water and earth lines were nothing alike, he had been right about one thing; the faint wrinkle perpendicular to his heart line appeared to match the Avatar's perfectly.

"The union lines aren't the same," Prince Zuko said finally, indicating a line extending between Aang's pinky finger and heart line, and then a much shorter one on his own palm; deep and broken, with a small purple scar cutting through at the base. "Yours is longer. _Many_ people might care for you…" his voice dropped considerably, a hint of disappointment creeping in. "But not for me."

Aang frowned a little, vaguely aware that the older boy had something of a point; while his was longer, however, it was more shallow, fainter by far than the Fire Prince's. With a quiet sigh he leaned forward a little, peering at their hands before belatedly releasing the teenager's wrist. "Then the ones that do care _more_ for you," he decided, earning a dry, humorless laugh from the Firebender.

"Please," Prince Zuko snorted, averting his eyes. "Name _one__person _you can honestly say cares more about me than they do about you."

For a long moment Aang said nothing, staring at him, puzzled by the question. They did not share many acquaintances, and he knew better than to try making a point that Uncle Iroh preferred his nephew--that was a given, and he knew that the older boy would not be satisfied with the answer. Logic dictated that any number of the prince's crew felt the same, and if he had not been certain that the Fire Lord was a heartless, bitter man with no room for love in his heart, he would have insisted that _surely_ Prince Zuko's own father preferred him to the only remaining opposition to his quest to take over the world.

"I don't know anyone," he said finally, wincing as Prince Zuko shut his eyes and leaned away. The Avatar clasped his hand again, leaning to the side to try catching Zuko's gaze if he did open his eyes. He waited, staring up at the prince expectantly, and a few painfully long seconds passed before Prince Zuko cracked open his eye to see if Aang had backed off.

The boy had not.

Cracking a smile and giving the Firebender's hand a warm squeeze, Aang spoke with more assurance than he ought to have felt. "But I care a lot about you. That's gotta count for something, right?"

Although Aang's sentiment was surely innocent, and though Prince Zuko knew full well that he was only a child and probably had little awareness of the weight such words could carry, his words struck deeply. Heat blossomed in his cheeks in embarrassment, tingeing them a faint pink that the Fire Prince knew was impossible to miss, and he could think of no excuse; certainly not one that the little Avatar would be willing to buy into.

Nor could he think of an adequate response. After the hardship he had caused the boy and his friends, after their argument, it seemed completely illogical that he would--or could--say with a straight face that he did not hate his captor. Especially while, to Aang's knowledge, Zuko would still be handing him over to his father. That kind of forgiveness was unfathomable.

"You're crazy," Prince Zuko said finally, easing his hand out of the Avatar's grip and sitting back, willing the incessant blush in his cheeks to die down with no luck. "And that doesn't prove anything; just that we've got similar destinies." The more he thought about the Avatar's words, the more confusing the boy became. Nothing about the twelve-year-old bridge between man and spirit made sense--and at the same time, he was so _simple_ that it almost seemed impossible that he had kept out of the Fire Nation's clutches for as long as he had.

He rose to his feet then, stretching a little as he stood, although he tried to be discrete about it; his back was tensing up in anticipation of a very, _very_ dire and stressful afternoon and night, and it did nothing to make the job easier. Knowing that time was running out before they reached port, and painfully aware that he would need to enlist his uncle's help if he was going to get back out of the Fire Nation alive once Aang escaped, he could not continue wasting time with the little Avatar. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to; the longer he spent with Aang, the more difficult this would be, possibly for them both--especially if his plan backfired.

It seemed as if he would drop the subject in favor of his almost habitual silent contemplating, and Aang watched him straighten his futon and altar before Prince Zuko headed to the door. The monk moved to rise as well, uncomfortable with being left alone when he knew he could not escape, but an oddly sharp look from the golden-eyed teen stopped him. When Prince Zuko spoke there was more resignation than harshness in his voice, and Aang could not help wondering if the sharpness in his gaze had anything to do with the telltale sheen of wetness in his better eye.

"You shouldn't care about an enemy, Aang; you'll just get hurt," the Fire Prince said, pulling the door open and stepping half way through the threshold before he looked back again. "Change back into your own clothes. I'll be gone only a few minutes." And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Don't go anywhere while I talk to my uncle."

With a mournful creak of rusting metal and tired hinges, Prince Zuko pulled the door shut behind him, but not quickly enough to miss Aang's parting shot:

"Doesn't look like that ever stopped _you_."

Again heat rushed to his face, and the exiled prince was thankful beyond measure that the door behind him was firmly shut and locked; it would keep Aang inside just as effectively as it kept him from turning and going back in to argue when they both knew full well that the Airbender was right. Caring for his enemy, for the Avatar, was costing him the first and likely _only_ window of opportunity he had to return home--but the tradeoff would have been too painful, he realized, to take back his honor at the cost of the child's life. He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to cleanse his mind of any and all distractions related to the sacred boy; he needed to be ready to lay his hand on the table, to break down and allow Uncle Iroh to really help him avoid losing everything with this gamble.

A familiar gravelly clearing of the throat directly in front of him nearly had Prince Zuko leaping out of his skin, and he snapped his eyes open to see the retired general in question standing before him. Uncle Iroh looked tired, with his hands folded in the sleeves of his robes and his head tilted to the side, as if he was reading and digesting the whole of his hotheaded nephew's thoughts in an instant.

"U-Uncle," the prince stuttered, surprised that the old man had snuck up on him, though he knew better; his distraction was costly. Coughing and regaining his composure, the teenager straightened a little, stepping away from the door only half a pace. "I was about to go look for you--"

"Prince Zuko, we need to have a talk," the Dragon of the West said firmly, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. There was little kindness in the old man's face, instead lit with a mixture of disapproval and sternness. His nephew felt his stomach drop, and the bravado he had hoped to rely on faded from his own face as Iroh fixed a level look on him, despite being significantly shorter than the teen. "I cannot allow you to follow this course with the Avatar. It will lead only to disaster."

**Part Six:** Owari


	7. Fraying At the Inside Edge

**Title: **Reclaiming Honor

**Chapter Title: **Fraying At the Inside Edge

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count: **7,264

**Disclaimer:** I claim no responsibility for what happens beyond this chapter. However, we _are_ moving in on the end!

**Author's Notes:** College is eating my soul, my muse ran away during the Massive Season Hiatus, stress, work, cosplay, bork'd knee, blah blah, something about space. You guys have essentially heard everything before, so why go into it in depth again:3

A HUGE thanks to my reviewers--there were times when things were Epic Fail and I essentially wanted to give up, but you guys are making me work hard again. So thank all of you for that!

A few review responses, because I can't do all forty-plus, lest it wind up being longer than the chapter. Which would be quite a feat, since I'm giving y'all almost a double-sized chapter to reward you for waiting so patiently while my life made me lag!

_DarkAngelKisses_ - Your reviews had me literally rolling on the floor, giggling and having glee. Running commentary is the funniest thing ever. I wish there were room for more humor in and around this chapter to dedicate it to you.

_Soupcan_ - I suppose it's less that he's stupid, and more that his rashness will catch up to him. Either way, his luck isn't going to hold out quite as well as he hoped, and hope you (and everyone else reading!) will enjoy it anyway. x3

_Anna301510_ - Don't die inside! If it spreads all o'er, you won't be able to read the next chapter

_M.e_ - Now why'd you have to make an anon review so I can't reply to you in person? You've put so much thought into that review that I can't even begin to reply properly! I'm glad you like the character portrayals, and I love that my brainchild made you love this paring. X3

**Part Seven: **Fraying At the Inside Edge

"I cannot allow you to follow this course with the Avatar. It will only lead to disaster."

In the first few seconds immediately following the old man's words, his nephew could do little else but stare, amber eyes wide and jaw slack, hanging open a little such that he resembled a stranded carp. The look of befuddlement on his face was undeniable; Uncle Iroh, of all people, should have been able to sympathize… He was, after all, doing the right thing in letting the Avatar go, wasn't he? Surely his uncle understood his intentions--the alternative, that he neither understood nor would support him, made the teen's heart plummet into his stomach like a comet.

"Uncle," Zuko protested immediately, fumbling over the familiar address. His palms felt abruptly sweaty, and he clenched and unclenched them, hoping to rid himself of the unpleasant feeling, unable to find any explanation that might sway his uncle's opinion. "I thought you, of all people, would understand…"

"Understand?" Iroh interjected, a frown of grandfatherly disapproval on his weathered features. "No, Prince Zuko, I do not _understand_ why you would set yourself up for such disappointment."

"I'm only doing what you've always _taught_ me to--"

"Wrong! I have never taught you to wittingly _harm_ yourself! Have you considered what this will mean for you?"

The exiled prince's face fell, his expression stormy and conflicted. That was the whole _problem_, wasn't it? The more he considered the consequences of his plan, the more difficult it was to go through with. To return home at the cost of the child's life was more than he could bear; it would have been one thing if the Avatar had been a cowardly old man, hiding out for one hundred years and ignoring his duties--that, Prince Zuko could have handled, and he doubted that he would have much difficulty handing such a person over to face the Fire Lord's judgment.

Aang's life, however…

When Zuko spoke again, his voice was strained, and though he tried he could not bring himself to meet his uncle's eyes. "What happens to me is secondary. I need to do what's right for _him_, Uncle… And if you won't help me, I'll find my own way."

For long moments, there was silence as Iroh watched his nephew's face contort with awkward embarrassment at his own candidness before the teenager looked pointedly away. Something had changed, as Uncle Iroh had noted earlier, but he could not put his finger on it. Somehow in less than a day the little Avatar had bent the branches of his nephew's tree to finally grow out of Fire Lord Ozai's shadow--which he had been trying for _years_ to accomplish with little success. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a wonderful thing.

But so near to the Fire Nation, nearly standing below the Fire Lord's nose, was the worst possible time for Prince Zuko to suddenly decide to follow his heart.

The old man's weathered face softened, and with a murmured sigh that sounded more like a prayer that the spirits help them than an actual sigh, he reached out to put an arm around the prince's shoulders. He had long seen him as more of a son than a nephew--even, to some degree, before his own son had died in the siege of Ba Sing Se. It hurt, having to deny him something he so clearly wanted.

"One day, my nephew, it will all make sense," he said slowly, all but forcing the teen away from the door to walk down the hall. Prince Zuko did not look up; but he flinched, and knowing that he was indeed listening, Iroh continued in low tones, "You are a young man now, and healthy, but the Avatar is a _child…_ and a prisoner of war besides that! Believe me when I say such a match _cannot_ work, and that you will only bring further scorn from the Fire Lord if you take up a homosexual relationship with the Avatar when he--"

"_WHAT_?!"

Prince Zuko pulled out of his uncle's hold so quickly, and with such force, that he stumbled into the corridor wall and nearly lost his footing. Uncle Iroh stared at him, an eyebrow raised, genuinely surprised by the prince's outburst, and Zuko could only stare back, all but hyperventilating steam in his surprise. His heart was pounding hard in his ears, and his cheeks burned red, but the exiled prince neither knew if it was from embarrassment or anger, nor did he care.

Making sure the Avatar escaped safely had _nothing_ to do with a _relationship_!

The old general held his hands palm up in a gesture of appeal, hoping to calm his nephew down before he hurt himself. "Zuko, you do not have to be _ashamed_ of it--in my younger days I, too, was involved in--" he paused, noting the still-horrified look on the Fire Prince's suddenly ash-white face, and amended, "--a, ah, _few _similar relationships… a long time ago."

If there were a way to shut his ears without having to cover them with his hands, the prince would have gladly given his ability to Firebend as trade. While it was somewhat reassuring to know that his uncle--the only family he had been able to count on since his mother's disappearance--would not abandon him if he _did_ ever show interest in men (he could blame it on being at sea during his early teens all he wanted, but such an excuse would not hold up with men who hadn't done the same), the idea of his uncle being with _anyone_ at _any_ time, past present or future, made his skin crawl.

"This isn't about that!" he snapped, shaking his head to rid himself of the mental images of his uncle courting Lieutenant Jee or the helmsman. Or worse yet, _both_. "I'm not talking about love or romance or--or any of that! I need your help getting _out_ once he's free!" By the last part, Zuko's voice had dropped to an urgent hiss, wary that someone else might somehow overhear him, though there were no men in the corridor besides themselves.

Uncle Iroh only stared for a few moments, eyes quite wide and round, as he tried to process his nephew's words and dissect their meaning. The release of the Water Tribe siblings made much more sense if Prince Zuko was trying to ensure a clean escape for the little Avatar, although the weight he had inadvertently dumped on their shoulders was one he would not have wished on anyone. And from the teen's outburst it was safe to assume that Aang knew nothing of his plan--a wise thing to keep him unaware of, especially when it did not look like there had been quite enough forethought to ensure success.

Prince Zuko was no tactical master. As a child it had taken him months to memorize some of the simplest battle plans, and he had never done well planning anything that required anyone else's help--with few exceptions, the plans he did scheme up usually comprised of: 'Stay out of my way until I ask for help,' and 'I'll figure it out when he's in front of me.' In that respect, he did not take after any of the men in his family; his great-grandfather and grandfather had been true masters of strategy, from the battle of Han Tui to full-scale invasions and takeovers of most of the Earth Kingdom's largest cities and compounds. Even Fire Lord Ozai had made great progress thanks to his battle plans (though there were more than a few that had risked and sacrificed unnecessary soldiers, which Uncle Iroh was more inclined to count as losses than actual victories).

But no man in their family could boast something so great as penetrating the impenetrable Earth Kingdom capitol of Ba Sing Se--none other than the Dragon of the West, and even with his title long shelved, Iroh's wit had yet to fail him.

The abrupt sound of palms slapping together startled Zuko, and the prince's head snapped back toward the old man, plainly surprised by the grin that lit his weathered face. "All right, my nephew," Uncle Iroh said heartily, clapping his nephew hard on the shoulder. "Come to my chambers with me; we have much fine-tuning to do. I hope they have not sent the messenger hawks to the Fire Lord just yet…"

As Iroh steered him down the hall toward the stairs, Prince Zuko could only follow automatically, eyes wide with disbelief; it seemed too easy. He had expected the old man would help him, but not so readily. "Uncle, you're really going to help me do this?" he asked, voice small, stumbling as he tried to keep pace with the old man's stride.

"Of course. What a silly question!" Iroh looked back at his nephew, and although he was smiling gently his golden eyes sparkled with excitement. After two years with only Pai Sho to stretch his intellect, the former general was all but itching to do something with a little more planning involved--and what better than an escape from the heart of his own country? "This will be an excellent challenge for both of us."

"This isn't a game," Zuko protested, scowling; gambling pebbles and seashells away from the crew was one thing, but their _lives_ could be at stake--in going into exile with him, Uncle Iroh had forfeited his right to stay in the Fire Nation as well. His was not a technical exile (and no one in their right mind would arrest the Dragon of the West), but helping a fugitive in and then _out_ of the country could earn him an equal death sentence if he was caught. "If we're caught, the consequences…"

The old man cut him short with a wave of one hand. "The spirits do not let great acts of compassion go unnoticed; there will be more gained than we lose in doing this, I assure you, Prince Zuko," he said, mounting the stairs to climb up to the next level. And in a low voice, he added, "And I would not let my favorite nephew face this alone."

---

Three thunks; pause; pivot; three again; pause, a grunt of anger; pivot, more thunking; repeat--blue and white flashed briefly in the corner of his peripheral vision between the stomping and huffy grunting. This had been going smoothly as clockwork for the better part of the past hour--a more accurate way of keeping time than the oil burners on the wall, for sure, but infinitely more annoying.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Pause.

"Katara…" Sokka warned, not for the first time. His sister did not hear him, instead pivoting again like a mechanical dancer and beginning her trek anew. It was the same pace, same number of strides she had always made, even as a little girl back home in the South Pole. She made the same time pacing across Appa's saddle from front to back as she did the back of the long huts, but this time, in the tiny wheelhouse on the borrowed rush boat, it was _noisier._

Stomp, stomp--

"_Katara!_" Her brother bellowed, turning to look over his shoulder at the girl. She looked up sharply, caught mid-stride with her braid twisted into a knot around her hands. "Would you _please_ stop _doing_ that? You'll wear a hole in the ship or something!"

The girl whirled away almost immediately, crossing her arms over her chest stiffly. "I can't help it!" she snapped, only barely resisting the urge to start pacing again. She was nervous, scared for Aang's safety--scared for the world's safety!--and all she could do was pray that Zuko's convoy would make poor time moving inland. They needed to find Appa, and fast, but for all the good the maps and scrolls left behind had done them they were at least another hour away from the island they had left him on. Katara wondered if, perhaps, Prince Zuko had only been trying to get rid of them after all; it felt like they were on a wild goose chase.

She clenched her fists, blunt fingernails digging into her upper arms through the thin fabric of her tunic, and let out what seemed to be the thousandth heavy sigh that day before exploding. "We shouldn't have left Aang behind!" the Waterbender all but shouted, making Sokka jump a little in surprise. He was almost certain that the boat pitched underfoot as she spoke, and he had to scramble to make sure they kept to their course. "There's no _way_ we'll make it to the White Tiger River before nightfall!"

"All we can do is try, Katara!" Sokka squeaked, heaving a heavy sigh of relief on seeing that the ship had not gone too far off course; they were still headed due south at an alarming speed. It was one thing for Appa to move faster than a naval ship--Appa was aerodynamic and knew how to dodge without being told to--but Sokka was convinced that, going as quickly as they were, even the slightest obstacle would be their end. That was something he did not want to think about; they could not _afford_ anything slowing them down.

The Water Tribe warrior knew full well the enormity of their task, the likelihood of failure--he was not sure whether to be thankful that Prince Zuko had accidentally let slip exactly where to find his party, or if it would have been better to try flying blind. Having only a few hours to collect Appa, infiltrate the Fire Nation's largest island, rescue Aang and get back out was ten thousand times more stressful than having a few months to save the world!

But right now he needed to calm Katara down before she snapped again and sent them off course. A lucky glance at the control panel offered temporary wheel and engine locks (or rather, he sorely hoped that was what 'auto' meant) and he hurried to secure the controls before turning to his sister. She still had her back to him, and looked as tense as a tiger-seal trap, ready to snap shut at the slightest provocation. "Katara, come here," he said, earning a quizzical look that strongly resembled a dark glare. Without further explanation, the older boy turned her to face him properly, guiding her into his arms for tight hug. Katara went rigid, but only for an instant, and then with a quivering sigh forced herself to relax--minimally--and returned the embrace.

"I can't do anything. I can't even get us there faster," she whispered, clenching blue eyes shut in her frustration. She had tried; she'd tried more than _once_, and there had been no results. Comforting though her brother's hug was, it was confining; their timeframe was confining; but her limited abilities were even worse. What good could Waterbending do in a situation like this if she could not even make the boat move faster? If they couldn't get inland and find him by morning, Aang would be on his way to the capitol for execution--and none of the maps she had found while scouring the ship were of any use. They showed nothing _inside_ the Fire Nation; just its surrounding waters. "If we don't make it in time, Aang's done for! We _all_ are! And this stupid boat doesn't have anything that will help us…"

"We have one advantage," Sokka cut in, drawing back to flash a grin for Katara's benefit. Keeping a hand on her shoulder, he pulled her toward the table closest to the controls, where piles of charts and maps all but covered even the built-in magnetic compass he was using to navigate. A quick shuffle produced the floor plans for the rush boat, with hastily scribbled notes for speed and carrying capacity in the margins. "This rush boat has enough room for a team of rhinos in the hull," he explained, sounding more optimistic than he felt. He did not quite have faith in his own plan, but _Katara_ needed it almost more than he did. She fixed a blank look on his face, as if to ask how space for rhinos they didn't have was going to help them in any way, looking more defeated than Sokka had ever thought was possible. It made his chest ache. "The ceiling is high--for loading, or storing more weapons, or something--but it's _big_. It'll be tight, but it should be big enough to fit Appa."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in--too preoccupied with her worries, Katara had trouble seeing what good fitting Appa into the ship would do them. But the pieces soon fell into place, and for the first time since their capture the afternoon prior Katara's eyes lit up with the beginnings of a spark of hope. "We can sneak him into port unnoticed…"

"And with the fog behind us, no one should see us unloading him," Sokka finished for her. He smiled, and to both his relief and immeasurable delight, Katara returned his smile with one of her own. He gave her shoulder a final, reassuring squeeze, then released her to return to the wheel. It was a long shot--there was not much further he could stretch realism before it became blind optimism--but they would have to take it.

---

Not long after leaving the Fire Nation to pursue the Avatar, Prince Zuko had to come to terms with the fact that his exile came with a certain degree of real separation from things he had been long accustomed to as Fire Nation royalty. He recalled dimly a visit to the military aviary nearest the palace, where his uncle had taken him on a tour of the entire compound, shown him the differences between the scores of messenger hawks and pet hawks. The pets were much smaller, with almost daintier frames and shortened talons--for the most part, even the females were more brightly colored, and their temperaments were all around more docile.

The messenger hawks were more awe-inspiring than attractive; larger bodies, heavier set, with much larger wingspans. Their eyes were sharper, often rimmed by rings of darker feathers that brought out the golds and greens with an intensity that, as a child, Zuko could not help being afraid of.

One summer, not long after his mother's disappearance, he had gone to choose a hawk of his own. Though out of season, his uncle had promised it as a birthday gift for when he turned fifteen. Delighted, Zuko had gone through the stalls of hatchlings, peering into incubators with little thought of which would grow up to be the biggest or the strongest, or whether his had the most impressive lineage. He wanted to find the _right_ hawk; not the best.

To his uncle's delight, Zuko's final choice had been one of the smaller chicks--a cross-breed between one of the larger pet hawks and a small messenger hawk, with pale coloring and light yellow eyes. The little prince's reasoning at the time had been that he could tell (as most children were inherently able to do) that his hawk would be the best and brightest--and that if it were not, that it would be _his_ best and brightest, so it would be fine.

But the hawk did not grow quickly, and when the Fire Lord exiled them, Iroh had to tell his nephew not to bring the bird along; the sea was treacherous, the winds too powerful to risk letting the bird fly about, and Zuko had to leave it behind.

The hawks they had been able to bring along were seasoned and old; a mated pair whose hatchlings had already grown and who were long since infertile. Iroh spoke highly of them despite their age, for he knew the birds to be quite sharper than they looked, even if the male spent much more time sleeping than flying, and the female looked a little fatter than a flying creature should. They were _his_ hawks--and like the Dragon of the West, they were stronger than they looked.

"Xian will take the letter to the dock master; Shui is better suited for the other task, don't you think, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asked, already having secured the scroll inside his half-asleep hawk's carrying satchel. Xian ruffled his feathers a little, trying either to wake up fully or settle back into a comfortable sleep. It had been weeks since he had flown any great distance--circling the ship in the early morning hours for exercise hardly counted for much--and in his old age, the hawk had little interest in it.

Prince Zuko had no faith in his uncle's birds, any sooner than he would have entrusted the Avatar's lemur with fine silk. He scowled, arms crossed firmly over his chest, and looked away stiffly. "I don't think either of them is strong enough to fly _anywhere_," he said bitterly, looking toward the open door, where the guard had apparently abandoned his post for an early lunch. "We should've brought my bird. Yours are too old and lazy."

"Nonsense," Iroh scoffed, stroking the female hawk's wing soothingly. She was giving the Fire Prince a sharp look; sizing him up as if to see whether she could take him--with a wingspan almost broader than a rhino's shoulders, she very well might have been able to do it, if she tried. The old bird settled, though, soothed by her master's hand. Killing the fledgling would teach it nothing. Uncle Iroh seemed to read his bird's thoughts and let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for the parchment she would carry. "Shui knows how to find her way. Don't you, my dear?"

Unable to really tolerate his uncle sweet-talking a hawk (did the man even realize that birds could not understand humans?), the exiled prince turned away. For a moment he had considered saying something unkind--something he didn't mean--about the animal and its owner, but he had the presence of mind to stop himself. Lashing out at his uncle did nothing good--it wouldn't make the messenger hawks fly any faster, and it would not make the knot of guilt in his stomach loosen.

Sending out hawks with instructions made the plan more concrete, left a paper trail, gave _proof_, even just to the Avatar's friends, that he was working against the Fire Nation's best interests, against his father. It was tangible evidence that he was still the disloyal, disobedient son that Ozai had exiled two years prior--thinking not for the interests of the people who mattered most, but for the people who meant _nothing_ in the long run, rookie soldiers and himself included--and that he had no right to set foot on Fire Nation shores ever again.

Or, for that matter, that he had never deserved to be allowed in the Fire Nation to begin with.

Knowing that he was too far along to turn back, and knowing full well on one level that he _had_ to be doing the right thing, letting the Avatar go, because there surely was a balance to uphold, and that honor was not something that a child's life could buy, did not strengthen his fraying resolve--if anything, it tore him further, because in knowing that helping the Avatar was the _right_ choice, he also knew on a deeper level that it meant his father had to be wrong about the war. Following his own beliefs, his instincts and heart, his sense of honor, had been what got him exiled to begin with. Two winters later, he ought to have known better--but with the chance to go home right in front of him, he found himself making the same stupid choice again.

Even if it was for a different reason, even if it was for _Aang_, and regardless of the fact that the child was also the Avatar, the choice was the same. And the punishment if he were caught would be ten thousand times worse.

Uncle Iroh very nearly jumped at the sound of the heavy iron door slamming shut behind him, and he looked back over his shoulder to see that his nephew had fled. The old man sighed, shaking his head slowly, idly smoothing Xian's feathers. "It has been a very long morning for him," he explained, and the hawk settled down, soothed more by the attention than the justification for the exiled prince's actions. The retired general heaved a sigh, producing a second slip of parchment from the folds of his robe, and he moved to secure the note around Shui's ankle. The bird looked baffled--she already _had_ her message to pass on, safely rolled up in the canister strapped to the harness on her back--and her master winked surreptitiously at her. "Let us hope this will make it easier for tomorrow, mm?"

---

The corridors to his private chambers blurred together in a mass of red and gray as Prince Zuko fled--his reckless running could be described as nothing else as he nearly bowled over three soldiers on three separate occasions and all but toppled down a ladder--his mind a whirl of accusatory thoughts that betrayed him at every turn. Either he was a traitor, to his father, to his home and people, or he was dishonorable and heartless, a selfish man for putting his life above another boy's, above the whole world--and Prince Zuko did not want to face any of these possibilities.

It was Aang's fault. While it was not comforting to consider this, it was infallibly true; if the little Airbender had been a little older--an old man, or even a _young_ man--with more life experience under his belt, at least another two elements mastered, or if he were the despicable coward he had always imagined himself to be pursuing, handing him over to the Fire Lord would have been easy. Zuko cursed himself silently, halting as he came to the door to his bedchambers and spun the lock with both hands. If he hadn't been so _stupid_, and had just locked the Avatar away below deck rather than indulge in his ridiculous urge to be near the boy, to get to know him better the night before--

He flung the door open with a nearly deafening slam, causing the child in question to jump where he sat cross-legged in front of Zuko's altar. Once again clad in his usual orange and yellow, Aang looked no different than he had the first time the Fire Prince had captured him--he was still small and young, and more confused than frightened, and worse than anything else he could have possibly been, he was still _innocent_.

"Zuko?" Aang's voice was almost a whisper, and he rose from his seated position as the older boy shut the door behind him once more. He moved slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, though whether he thought the Fire Prince had gone mad or was otherwise hurt was impossible to tell.

Breathing heavily, steam rising with his breath, Prince Zuko made up the distance between them in three strides and grabbed Aang by the shoulders. The older boy said nothing for a half moment, still panting, trying to catch his breath, and Aang waited, staring up at him with an eyebrow raised in apparent confusion.

Zuko's hands were trembling--he distantly blamed his haphazard sprint across the ship, though that might not have been the cause at all--and his palms were sweaty. He did not bother trying to explain himself, however, and with a sudden jerk crushed Aang against his chest, earning a startled squeak from the little monk. He ignored it, ignored the feel of the boy pushing at him to get away, and he ignored his mild protests.

"I won't let you go," he wheezed, shutting his eyes against the realization that he had to. Aang's hands against his chest stilled. The Fire Prince tightened his hold on the younger boy in response, trapping him, as if he were afraid that Aang might slip through his fingers like smoke if he did not hold on tightly enough.

The air felt heavy in Aang's lungs, and though he realized it had gone stale the little Avatar could not draw in breath. His lungs were squashed against his ribs, with no room left to inhale, and it did not look like Zuko had any intention of loosening his grip. "Zuko…" he tried, craning his neck to try meeting the Firebender's eyes, but he could not turn enough to do it. Squirming, he wiggled one hand out from between them, leaving enough room to draw in a quick gulp of oxygen before Zuko could clamp down on him again.

For the briefest instant, Zuko felt a rush of panic at the thought that Aang might try to escape _now_, and he shook his head fiercely. He still had one more day. "I won't!"

"Zuko I can't _breathe_!"

It took a full four seconds for Zuko's mind to form the connection between the need to breathe and the space Aang needed to accomplish that, and he pulled back a little to give him more room--but still, his hold on the younger boy was vice-like. Not because he thought Aang could run, with the door closed behind him and the ship well into Fire Nation waters, but because he needed convincing. He needed to convince himself that this was still right; that he could do the right thing without losing everything all over again.

That even if he let Aang go _now_, he could reach out and capture him again someday, when it would be fair, and go home for good without regrets.

The Fire Prince almost spoke then, but Aang cut him off. "I know you can't let me go," he murmured, eyes downcast, darkened by a quiet resignation that Zuko wished he hadn't noticed. The boy was quiet for a moment, then looked up at his captor, gray eyes glassy, but clear, and although he tried to smile it was more painful than reassuring. "It's okay. I wasn't expecting you to. You let Katara and Sokka go--that's enough for me, really. I understand."

Zuko felt his heart all but plunge into his stomach, weighted by the guilt that came from knowing that he had been lying, and that he could not take it back; he could not afford to promise Aang anything, neither in the form of guaranteed freedom nor safety--or even civility--if his friends did not make it in time to save him. Even with a map, and instructions, and whatever else his uncle planned to slip them, the Water Tribe children had a much steeper hill to climb than he thought they could manage.

"You can't understand," the exiled prince countered, taking a pace back to look Aang over. He himself did not fully understand why and what he was doing, so there was no way Aang, a mere child who did not even know what was in store for him, could grasp it sooner, or fuller, than he did.

"I do." Aang sounded surer of himself than Prince Zuko could ever remember being, and it made him feel painfully uncomfortable. Worse yet, when the boy looked back up at him, there was no anger, not even a hint of betrayal that should have come with the belief that he was to be given over to the Fire Lord. The Fire Prince could not wrap his mind around it, around what on Earth could make the boy so damnably understanding--it wasn't natural, and it was almost inhuman--

It was fitting for the Avatar, and Zuko surprised himself by almost forgetting just who he was thinking about; in his mind, he had almost separated the boy from his title.

"There's just one little thing I don't get," Aang said. Prince Zuko jolted, brought back to reality by the boy's face suddenly mere inches from his. Wide gray eyes stared at him, openly curious, and the older boy all but froze under his gaze. Unperturbed, Aang went on, inching closer as Zuko tried to lean away. "I heard you and your uncle talking out there, and I think I know why you let my friends go."

For the second time in only a handful of minutes, Prince Zuko felt his heart freeze, gripped by panic with enough force to rival a hawk's talons. Aang was young, and he was certainly not brilliant, but if he had figured it out then surely his crew would, too. And he knew full well how easily his enemies could extract information from his men, remembering vividly Commander Zhao's interrogation not long after his first encounter with the Avatar; news traveled fast, and if his father found out that he had let the Avatar go he would--

The boy paused, watching the look of guilt, followed by fear, as it washed across Prince Zuko's pale face before he could get his expression under control. Really, it hadn't been _that_ hard to discern why the teenager would release his friends. Aang frowned. "I just don't know why you would let them leave if you like Katara that much."

The exiled prince froze, his train of thought all but skidding to a halt, and though he opened his mouth to ask what in the name of anything even remotely sacred would give the boy a crazy idea like that, he found that he could produce no sound. His vocal chords were not cooperative, and from where Aang stood he probably looked like some kind of exotic fish, with the color slowly returning to his cheeks and his eyes wide.

He hadn't been found out.

The Avatar had no idea what he was planning.

Despite all his eerie perceptiveness and occasional wisdom gleaned from having hundreds of past lives to draw from, _Aang did not know_.

"Wh… what?" Prince Zuko managed, shaking his head slowly, trying hard not to let his relief show--he succeeded in only looking confused. His pride chastised him silently; that was not much better.

Aang had not been expecting a mild reaction--with Prince Zuko, nothing was _ever_ mild--and he wondered if perhaps, he had been wrong; nothing on the older boy's face spoke of having a dirty secret exposed, and if there was anything he had learned about Zuko in the last twenty-four hours it was that he did not hide emotions well, unless he was masking them with anger. Confusion was not anywhere near the same thing. "Well…" he started almost defensively, ticking off each point on one hand as he spoke, "I heard you shouting about love and romance, and you got upset earlier when your uncle was teasing you about her; that's usually a sure sign you like someone," If Sokka's vehement refusal to admit his feelings for Suki was any indication; Aang had never been called on his crush on Katara, or for that matter any _other_ passing infatuation he had experienced. "And you gave her a _boat_. You don't give someone a gift like that unless you like them."

Prince Zuko stared, eyebrow raised, mouth hanging open for a handful of seconds as he tried without luck to process Aang's words; it all _sounded_ ridiculous, there was no denying that, but from a child's perspective… especially when Aang claimed to understand why he could not free _him_, even when that was his true intention, he could see where he might come up with that kind of explanation. Under different circumstances that logic might have worked, but the boat was an expensive loss, hardly some trinket of affection that ought to be passed between lovers.

Between the maps and technology it contained it could be a viable threat to his country's security in the wrong hands--and in the possession of a couple of peasants from the Southern Water Tribe, who _did_ actively work against the Fire Nation, it could prove disastrous. The Fire Prince wondered which was worse; the idea that someone other than Aang might think he had given the Water Tribe girl a token of love, or the fact that giving her and her brother a means of saving the Avatar from almost certain execution could enable the Earth Kingdom to somehow infiltrate their waters and attack from within the country's boarders.

"I don't like that girl," Prince Zuko said finally, trying to keep his voice measured to leave no opening for Aang to accuse him of being in denial. "She's annoying, loud, obnoxious, and a peasant. I just wanted her off my ship."

"But you could've sent someone with them," Aang cut in, frowning, "You won't get your boat back this way."

"I don't care about the boat." That was not entirely true; he had only replaced it a few days prior, following the incident with the pirates losing his old rush boat over a waterfall. Seeing Aang's look of suspicion (when had the boy gotten so good at catching him lying?), Zuko added, knowing that it was a lie and that Aang might not believe him; "I could get a new one if I needed it. Which I _don't_. After tomorrow, I won't even need one."

Aang had almost forgotten that he would never have to chase him around the world by boat once they made land; unless he did manage to escape, Zuko would never have to so little as _look_ at another ship if he had no mind to. For that matter, even if he _did_ get away, the likelihood that the Fire Prince would be allowed to follow him after returning to the land he had been exiled from was slim to none--and somehow, that thought made his heart hurt.

The boy was silent, simultaneously thankful and baffled by the knowledge that his theory was wrong; he by no means wanted Zuko to have his eyes set on Katara, though he would not have blamed him for it. A twinge of jealousy pulled his lips into a frown; Aang knew he would have been _furious_ to see his best friend with the Fire Prince. Especially when he could see where she might want to be--despite his big words and erratic mood swings, Prince Zuko was a good person; he was warm and nice to be around, and while Aang could not really put his finger on it, there was something comforting about being near him.

Oddly enough, Aang found that he was more concerned with keeping Zuko out of _Katara's_ arms, rather than the other way around.

"Then…" Aang started slowly, crossing his arms for a moment before raising one hand to tap at his chin, apparently deep in thought, and Prince Zuko watched him, relieved to know that he had been quick to drop the idea that he would be in love with the peasant girl. The simple truth was that he very well may have been doing this because he liked someone--but it wasn't either of Aang's friends, and he was very nearly certain that it had nothing to do with the type of like the little Air monk had been talking about.

The fact that he dreamed about the boy on a near-regular basis, and that there was _nothing_ platonic about those dreams, was completely irrelevant. It did not mean _anything_.

If he told himself that ten thousand more times, every day, maybe it would eventually be true.

Finally, Aang raised his chin and met the Fire Prince's eyes. He looked determined, as if he had finally figured it out--because in his mind's eye, he had the only remaining answer. "Then, is it Sokka you like?"

For the second time in only a handful of minutes, Zuko's mind came to a screeching halt. This time, however, after staring incredulously at the Avatar for a few seconds, he laughed. But it was not the short, measured chuckle that long years of self-restraint had instilled in the prince; it was crisp, and clean, unrestrained, and although he had been wrong, Aang could not help grinning. The smile suited the Fire Prince, he decided, and it warmed his heart, a faint glow that he wanted to hold onto for more than just another moment.

"Because I gave him…" Prince Zuko snorted, covering his mouth belatedly to hide his grin and earning a snicker from Aang. "A _boat_, right? Is that it? That's so… _so_ stupid!"

He was still laughing, too hard to hear Aang's quiet affirmative (because it _was_ an expensive boat), and it took more effort than he had thought was possible to stop; the idea was ridiculous, but it surely wasn't _that_ funny. If anything, it felt like he had been storing this laughter, waiting for an opportune moment to release it, and when he had calmed enough to finally stop, Zuko found that the well had hardly run dry; he was _still_ close to breaking down into giggles again.

Wiping his eye, trying valiantly to push down the urge to snicker again, the Fire Prince shook his head. "I _don't_ like your peasant friends," he said finally, steadying himself with a hand to Aang's shoulder. "I don't like _any_ peasants."

Aang frowned, not the least bit pleased by the older boy's answer. He was not about to argue that, at the very least, Zuko should care about the peasants in his own country--or that regardless of class, people were _people_, and everyone was worth caring about. He sighed, shrugging the exiled prince's hand off of his shoulder and looking up at him with an expression caught between disappointment and heartache. "I'm a peasant too," he murmured, giving Zuko a pointed look. "You don't like me either, then?"

As quickly as it had come, the Firebender felt his good humor ebb away, pulled from him much like water wrung out of a sea sponge. He wondered distantly whether Aang realized what control he had over others' emotions, but there was no time to mull it over or address it. "No," Zuko said hastily, "You don't count. You're--"

"The Avatar, right?" Aang's words were hard, voice tight, "That's the only reason you've been nice to me, even though you're gonna take me to the Fire Lord! Is that it, Zuko?"

_Yes_, at first, but that was not the real reason, not anymore, and the Fire Prince could neither come clean nor immediately think of an excuse--Aang's face was scrunched, scowling darkly, but his eyes were sad, as if he had been stabbed between the shoulder blades by someone far dearer to him than his enemy rightly should have been.

Prince Zuko faltered, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, because he was certain--and rightly so--that whatever he _did_ say would be the wrong thing. He frowned, brows furrowing. "That's _not_ it!" he managed, but Aang hardly looked convinced. The boy stood, arms akimbo, waiting impatiently, but with the good grace to stay silent, and Zuko bit his lip, trying hard to gather his words and thoughts when both eluded him.

The Fire Prince reached out, grabbing Aang's wrists in a loose hold, careful of the bruises the ropes had left the night prior. "Look, I… Aang, I just like you, all right?" His complexion darkened, an unmistakable blush, and although he knew it was cowardly he avoided Aang's gaze. "You're _different_. I don't care if you're a peasant, a monk, or the Avatar. I let your friends go to make you feel better. That's all."

**Part Seven: **Owari


End file.
